


Highway

by burgersfromspace



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Angst, Drama, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Mechanic Bucky Barnes, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert, References to Depression, Romance, bad boy bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-11-06 16:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11040036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burgersfromspace/pseuds/burgersfromspace
Summary: There's a charming man that enters the diner like heownsthe place, like he owns thetown. And when he's calling youbabydoll, with a devilish smirk on his face and a twinkle of silver in his baby blues, you know you won't be able to stop yourself from falling for the infamous Bucky Barnes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda fell in love with the idea of Bucky being a charming bad boy? He may or may not be a _bad_ influence, one way or another!
> 
> Anyway! I hope y'all enjoy this first chapter as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

"You're _late_."

"Sorry," You gasped out in response as you raced behind the vintage diner's counter to pull on an apron, "I got lost, still not sure what roads lead to which."

"Hm," Your coworker hummed with a small giggle, "'s okay. I told the manager your car was having issues. But don't do it again, 'kay? Being late on your first day isn't exactly a good impression."

You nodded in shameful understanding to the woman. She was a beautiful brunette who went by the name of Wanda. You wondered what someone as beautifully sweet as herself was doing in such a small and dubious town at the edge of the countryside.

Wanda was kind from the second you met her, with a subtle country accent that dripped with honey and skin that shined like porcelain. You were eternally thankful that this was the woman who would train you and show you the ropes of the town's most beloved diner. 

Training initiated rather quickly after you'd apologized for the second time for your late arrival, but Wanda had merely shrugged it off and gifted you a notepad and pen for you to nudge into your apron. You were both in charge of working behind the counter, attending the customers who chose to take upon the stools rather than the booths.

You found yourself washed over with relief at the idea of being able to at least _partially_ hide behind the counter. Not only had your position offered you that comfort, but it offered you a great and wide view of the 50's themed diner. It was rather small and much different to your old job in the city, but it was kind of... _cute_. It was a peculiar hole in the wall that offered many folks a sense of nostalgia, deliciously piled burgers, and a classic jukebox. 

"That right there," Wanda nudged you with her elbow to drag you from your thoughts, "That's Mr. Coulson. He's probably the nicest man you'll meet in town, but his wife?" She puffed, "She likes to sleep around behind his back."

Your face pulled itself into a frown in sympathy and discomfort, "That's...that sucks. Does he know?"

"'course he does. But...guess he loves her too much to let her go." Wanda shook her head in disappointment, " _Men_."

You'd only managed to get about halfway through your shift before Wanda had taken it upon herself to point out the regulars. She said you'd learn their names and regular orders in no time, and then she said you'd learn their problems at _home_ in no time as well. _Small towns mean you know everythin'_ , she'd said.

That wasn't exactly something you wanted to know, really. You were never the kind to meddle in other people's situations, nor were you ever the kind to find interest in them. Your old job in the city, a job that had practically glued your ass to a chair in an office, offered little time and socialization to allow such familiarity with other people. So this seemed...it was _new_.

"And who's that?" You nodded your head to a lonesome red-haired woman who sat at the other end of the counter.

Wanda followed your line of sight before she nodded, "Oh, that's Natasha. She's the adopted daughter of Mr. Fury, the owner of the diner. She likes to watch over the diner and take care of things, sometimes she works here, sometimes she doesn't. Nat is..." She paused to think over her choice of words, "She can be a bit _cold_. But when you get to talkin' with her, she's nice."

You hummed in comprehension and were just about to ask about another patron before a blond male came out from the kitchen. He looked a bit older than yourself, and his voice carried itself with a wave of humor.

"What are you girls gossiping about?" He lacked the accent that Wanda had. 

"Hey, Clint," Wanda smiled brightly at the man named Clint, "this is the new girl, (Y/N). She's from the city, so be civil."

Clint smiled at you and made a show of fixing up his dirty apron before tucking your hand into a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you. And, unlike _Wanda_ likes to believe, I am _always_ civil." The two shared a laugh before Clint scrutinized your figure in the uniform and apron before looking at you again, "Have you met the owner?"

"Mr. Fury?" You questioned before shaking your head, "I haven't, no."

"Well, when you do, you'll be quick to learn that he doesn't like to watch his employees goofing off and gossiping. Just a heads up, don't do it in front of him. Luckily," Clint shrugged and looked around and over his broad shoulder, "Old man's not here."

"But Nat is." Wanda reminded him, to which Clint smirked.

"Yes, she _is_. Thank you for reminding me." Clint stood a bit taller and rolled up his white sleeves, "Ladies, make way. I'm gonna go charm my woman."

"She ain't your woman," Wanda groaned while you tried your hardest to not laugh at the man's behavior, "You're gonna embarrass yourself like you always do."

Clint simply snorted at her comment before rolling his eyes, _watch and learn_ , he'd said before walking around the diner's lunch counter and walking around several booths and tables before reaching Natasha. You shook your attention away when you watched the red-haired woman sigh and look up at him.

"Guessing he has a crush on her?"

Wanda threw her head back with a laugh, "Understatement of the year."

"If he knows she's not interested, why does he keep going to her?"

"Like I said," Wanda commented, " _Men_."

The conversation came to end with another few moments of laughter and giggles shared between you and your new friend Wanda, whom you decided wasn't so bad at all. She was easy to talk to and easy to laugh with.

Working with her and Clint proved to be fun enough to make a whole eight hours pass by in a breeze, for you were reaching the last hour of your closing shift. Wanda said closing the diner wasn't so bad, as the last few customers usually only went in for a cup of coffee or a simple slice of the famous apple pie. And she was right. Once the sun had finally set and a warm darkness had enveloped the small town, it felt like the majority of the population had gone off to sleep.

You _wished_ you could do just that.

Wanda's shift ended a good two hours ago, and you'd been left with Clint, a young waitress who went by the name Daisy, and a comedic cook who called himself Scott. Scott and Clint had been the ones to bring about your laughter on and off, so time had gone by rather quickly.

You'd grown hopeful that no more customers would be coming in when the last handful had departed a few minutes ago. You'd begun to walk around the counter to pick up a few plates left on the counter and booths from the last minute customers.

When the bell above the entrance rang, you wanted to outwardly cry and groan at the new customer, but you had to live up to what Wanda taught you: be nice to every customer no matter how _close_ to going home you are. And that was just exactly what you were _planning_ on doing, but then your eyes fell upon him and his intimidating swagger and you wanted to hide when those bright silver eyes found yours.

You forced yourself to speak. "Hello, welcome to-"

"I know where I am, babydoll," The dark-haired man interrupted smoothly and made his way to one of the stools while you hurried behind the counter. Daisy, the remaining waitress on the clock, stared at you wide-eyed from across the diner.

"What can I get for you?" You shifted your attention to the customer.

"Coffee." He was to the point and quick with his order, but there was a sweet and husky drawl to his voice that made your cheeks flush. _What was it about this man that made you feel a bit shy?_ You weren't sure if it was the razor-sharp jaw or his sculpted nose, or was it the dark hair that touched his broad shoulders? No, it had to be the tattoos poking out from the sleeve of his shirt. It had to be those damn _eyes_.

You tried your absolute hardest to not pay attention to the fact that it felt like he was watching your every move. Your suspicions were confirmed when you lifted your eyes while gently sliding the steaming mug across the counter to him. 

"Sorry, I was starin'," His pink-toned lips curled into a subtle smirk, his head titled and he cocked a thick brow, "Just don't think I've seen your pretty little face. You new around here?"

 _God, he's **smooth**_. After clearing your throat to catch your voice, you nodded. "Yeah. I, uh, I moved here about a week ago."

The charming male nodded in acceptance and brought the cup of coffee to his plump lips. He watched you from under his dark lashes while he took a sip. There was that _smirk_ on his sharp face and you wanted to whimper in shame under his strong gaze, but a warm hand came to your shoulder.

"We're closing in ten minutes, Bucky," Clint spoke hoarsely to the customer.

 _Bucky_.

"I know what time you close, Barton," Bucky ground out in slight irritation, and his gaze didn't leave yours for a moment before he finally looked at the blond.

"Then stop bothering the girl and make it quick," Clint ordered whilst squeezing your shoulder a bit, his eyes a bit harsh on Bucky.

"I ain't botherin' her."

"He's not," You shook your head and cleared your throat, "Just wanted some coffee...that's all." 

Clint looked at you and bit the inside of his cheek before looking at Bucky, "Fifteen minutes."

With that and a final threatening glance, your coworker slid back into the kitchen with an attitude and a muttered expletive, _Asshole_. 

"You sure I ain't botherin' you, sweetheart?" Bucky asked.

You almost forgot he was there, for you'd been a bit shocked at Clint's outwardly harsh treatment of the poor customer. "Um, yeah...no, you're not bothering me." Bucky offered you a knee-trembling smile, sweet and handsome, and you choked out, "I gotta get back to work...enjoy your coffee, sir."

"I promise I will."

You left him to his cup of steaming black coffee and hurriedly made your way to Daisy, the girl who you had only spoken to a handful of times throughout the day. She was nice, and she had a goofy look on her face while you approached her. "I see you've finally met _the_ Bucky Barnes."

"Who is he?"

"Aside from being the local cocky jerk who likes to end up in the sheriff's office once in a while?"

You furrowed your brows and looked over your shoulder, thankful that he was engrossed in his cup of coffee, "Really?"

"Oh, everyone in town _knows_ it. He's a _bad_ influence."

Nodding at her commentary, you found yourself suddenly engrossed in the pocket of your apron where your keys were tossed into about an hour ago. "I gotta get back to work. What time are you off?"

Daisy glanced down at the small watch on her wrist, "I gotta help clean up the kitchen, so midnight. You?"

"Fifteen minutes." You smiled when she called you _lucky_ as you headed back to the counter. 

Bucky, to your surprise, had pulled out a cigarette from his back pocket when you reached for the coffee jug, "More coff-" You paused when Bucky slid the cigar into his lips, "Um...sir, you can't smoke i-"

"I know, I was fixin' to leave." He smirked with the cigarette in the corner of his mouth before he stood from the stool, his boots hitting the ground. "I'll see you around, won't I?"

You swallowed nervously and Bucky saw it as clear as day because he simply chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. _Damn him_. The only reason you hated him now was because of how stupidly nervous he made you. "Am I makin' you nervous?"

"Um, no...sorry, it's been a long day. I'm just tired." _Lie_. "'Till next time, sir."

"Please," Bucky shook his head before shoving his hands into his front pockets, "I want you to call me Bucky. Understand?"

Before you could reply, Bucky fished out a wrinkled five dollar bill before sliding it across the counter. His smirk was sickeningly devilish, "G'night, babydoll."

You could barely murmur out a farewell before he disappeared into the dark of the night, and as you heard the rumble of a motorcycle in the parking lot, you leaned forward and took a long and deep breath.

You hadn't realized he had made it incredibly hard to breathe.

That _Bucky Barnes_...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept rewatching that trailer I'm Dying Up Here, and that scene where Sebastian's just swaggering down the street with a cigarette in his mouth...ugh. What a...what a _trash bag_ , dude.

You'd worked hard on repeating to yourself an encouraging mantra that your new home, small and creaky, was as good as it was going to get in such a microscopic town that seemed to disappear from any and all maps in the world. You only needed room for boxes and leftover packing peanuts and several piles of clothing, shoes, nothing more.

You'd brought little from the big city, staying true to your promise to start fresh with absolute minimalism and change.  So you'd been a little more than excited to take up that job at the diner, eager to initiate a different pace in life. Office work was slow, but the diner was quick with its rushes and customers and giggle-inducing coworkers.

And, _boy_ , had those giggle-inducing coworkers made your job and new life a little more entertaining! Wanda proved herself to be the epitome of Southern kindness and a splash of sarcasm. Clint was as sweet as sugar and the biggest reason that you'd found yourself laughing into a fit of cramps and labored breathing during breaks. Scott, though he was a bit older than the whole lot of you, seemed to take up the role of the occasional adolescent who couldn't stop himself from joking. Him and Clint together, were a _terrible_ recipe for disaster, a write-up.

Though all seemed kind, the owner of the diner, Mr. Fury, had most definitely lived up to his namesake. When you'd first met him, you couldn't help but acknowledge that he was an intimidating man who had absolutely _no_ allowance for humor. So, with your inevitable and long-time goody two shoe feature, you had been the one to calm the lot more than once or twice so as not to get caught and get fired.

You figured it would be absolutely mortifying to have to call home and tell your family that you'd been fired after _two_ weeks of moving, so you kept yourself collected in the presence of the mighty Fury, and even his daughter.

You'd only gotten around to speaking to Natasha a few times, enough to count on one hand. The gorgeous redhead was a bit curt and quick, aloof as she addressed you with a mild attitude. She'd smiled once, but it was a tight-lipped smile, the ones that felt forced. 

Natasha reminded you an _awful_ lot of her adoptive father.

" _Hey_ ," Your attention was averted, "Get that, will ya?" Wanda jabbed an elbow into your side as your mind reeled back in from recollecting the past week or so. You shot her a frown and she replied with a simple smile as she made her way around the counter, tray raised in hand as she headed back to a booth of one. You couldn't stop yourself from glancing at the deliciously thick burger on her tray.

 _God_ , you wanted to go home and devour what little was in your pantry, but that wouldn't be 'till night time. _Gotta do what you gotta do_.

So you put on your best smile and directed your attention to the new customer, who wasn't so new to you anymore.

Phil Coulson returned your smile from the other side of the lunch counter with a dim light in his eyes, "Afternoon, how are ya?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Coulson, and you? How's your week been?"

Mr. Coulson thanked you for asking before he began to retell the events of the week. You would be lying if you were to say that your mind hadn't left and returned to his story a few times. The man was an absolute sweetheart with golden wisdom, but his stories were always incredibly long. You often felt bad when you'd have to interrupt him to attend to another customer, but he always accepted your apology with a wave of his hand.

Luckily, today's story wasn't terribly long, so you were eventually given the freedom to simply slide on the plate of hot curly fries and a tall serving of a strawberry milkshake before he dedicated his attention to his meal. 

Work had gone about at a smoother pace than usual after all the teens had gotten their fill after school before heading home. That, of course, left a rather large mess to pick up. You cleaned up the messes with Daisy and Wanda. When it had been time for Wanda, Daisy, and Clint to leave you, you were offered a rather slow wave of late people who wanted nothing too extravagant. Coffees, sodas, a slice of pie.

When the sun finally completed its descent behind the pine trees and small shops, the diner was empty. Or, _almost_ empty.

For some odd reason, there was always the attendance of a quiet boy that sat at the end of your counter with a book in his lap and his lips at a chilly Coca-Cola. You'd only barely noticed him, and you supposed you were part of the problem that he always seemed so lonely.

He was a young boy with a mop of dark hair and an undeniable baby face who seemed to don a different assortment of hoodies every day. You noticed his favorite was always a red hoodie, for it was the one he chose repeatedly.

"Hey, it's getting late," You offered quietly as you wiped the counter down with a wet rag. When you realized he didn't hear nor respond, you gazed up at him and noticed the earbuds in his ear. Clearing your throat in slight shame that you'd spoken to yourself, you tapped your finger closer to his side of the counter before he looked up in slight shock. "Hey, it's getting late. Don't you need to get home?"

"Oh," The boy looked at the cell phone that he'd rested on the counter before him. He cursed under his breath, "Yeah, I do. Thank you, I...I forgot it was a school night, sorry."

You chuckled, "Don't apologize, dude. I was just making sure you wouldn't get a talking to tonight."

The teen cackled with you while he gathered his belongings and shoved them into his backpack. He smiled at you timidly before shoving an earbud back into his ear, "Um, thank you. The food was good."

"Ah, I'll thank the cook for you," You paused slightly.

"Peter, my name's Peter."

"Alright, I'll thank the cook for you, Peter."

You watched with a small smile as Peter made his way out of the restaurant and out under the black sky. After pulling out your phone from your apron pocket to check the time, you found relief in seeing that it was almost time to go home, you were so close! And, luckily, by the time the clock belatedly hit time for you to haul ass, no one had entered the diner.

With a triumphant howl, you untied the apron from the nape of your neck and headed back towards the kitchen. Poor Scott was still back there, cleaning up the last few stains and grease spots. "I'm off, Scott. 'night." You offered gently, and the man looked up at you before he smiled brightly.

"Goodnight! You comin' in tomorrow?"

"Um, actually, I got off tomorrow! I might go out and see the rest of the town."

Scott laughed, "Oh, there isn't much to see. But you know where you _should_ go? There's a nice little bookstore about a block away, it's called _Wilson's_. The owner's a good friend of mine, I think you'll like him! Might wanna check it out? Some nice folks hang out there, too. Might meet some new people."

You offered Scott an assuring smile before nodding and hanging up your apron, "You know, I _might_ check it out. Oh! By the way, a boy, Peter, said the food was good. Told him I'd tell you."

"Peter? He's a nice kid. Thanks for passing along the message." The cook smiled again before bidding you a last farewell.

The moment you were going to bid him an equal farewell, your ears perked in disappointment when you heard the bell chime above the doors. _Why didn't you lock the doors?_

Sighing to no one in particular, you frowned at Scott and he shrugged, "Tell 'em to go home."

You gave him one last nod before pushing aside the curtain of the kitchen to enter the area behind the counter again, the bright lights of the small diner welcoming you back.

You were so set on sending whoever this new customer was home, so set on going home, that you tried your absolute hardest to ignore _his_ face and talk.

"Sorry, sir, we're closed,"

"What did I say about callin' me sir?" Bucky Barnes challenged gently, "Call me Bucky, doll. Please."

He watched you closely for a reaction, and now you were sure you were burning up. You'd almost _forgotten_ about this wicked male that you forgot how he was so devastatingly handsome and charming. But you cleared your throat and gathered your dignity.

"Sorry, _Bucky_ , we're closed."

A small chuckle of amusement left his throat and he licked his lips before shoving his hands into the front pockets of his fitted jeans. He straightened out his posture a bit and you dwindled in size, recognizing he was nearly a giant, as he scrutinized you over the straight bridge of his nose before seeming to make up his mind about something. "Then go eat with me somewhere else."

"What?"

"Go eat with me somewhere else, c'mon. I'm _starvin_ '."

 _Who...why... **what**? _ Bucky seemed to notice the sudden uprise of your inner turmoil. You're sure it was apparent in the confusion written all over your face, or in the way you fidgeted with your fingers and looked at the exit. He worked to mollify your hesitation. "I won't try anythin' funny. Just wanna eat somethin' with a pretty girl, is that too much to ask for?"

You _were_ hungry. But Daisy said he was _bad_ , right? What if he **_murdered_ ** you? Oh, _God_.

"It's fine if you don't wanna," Bucky added after a few more moments of your hesitation, "Don't wanna force ya."

You hated how weak he was making your knees just by _talking_ to you. This had only been your second encounter with the charmingly rugged Bucky Barnes, and you were already feeling your chest tighten in his presence. Ah, _fuck it_. 

How often would a chance like this ever arise? Plus, _free food_.

" _Fine_." 

Bucky smiled at you, and you watched the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled up in genuine satisfaction. " _Perfect_ ," He purred as he opened the door of the exit for you.

The outside air was exquisitely refreshing, and there was a soft Spring breeze that welcomed you with open arms. Bucky's footsteps were never far from yours as he walked with you across the empty parking lot to his motorcycle. When the scent of smoke filled your lungs, you looked over at him.

The man offered you a tight-lipped smirk as a lit cigarette stuck out from the corner of his mouth. And, for some reason, you couldn't understand why he was even more beautiful like _that_. Under the yellow-toned street lamps, his hair a bit of a mess and his jaw tight as he held the cigarette between two fingers before he pulled it out. 

"Don't go lookin' at me like that, baby. I'm tryin' to quit." His voice was deep and alluring, teasing.

"Trying? You sure about that?"

A throaty chuckle erupted from Bucky as he took another drag before he pulled the cigarette out and blew a puff of smoke away from you. "Okay, so I'm _not_ so sure." When he looked down at you by his side, he frowned halfheartedly, "What? I get stressed out sometimes, too. Don't you?"

The question brought about a cackle from your lips, and it caught Bucky's attention. " _Don't_ I."

"Then what _do_ you do for stress?" Bucky asked in interest as he leaned back on his black motorcycle, eyeing you as you chose to remain standing before him. "Don't smoke, do ya? Drink?"

"Nah," You shook your head and averted your gaze from his intense one, "I don't...I just bottle it up, I guess? Ignore it for a while."

"That's gonna do bad for ya, baby girl."

You scoffed at his comment, knowing it all too well, "I know."

Bucky hummed deeply before he took another long drag. After huffing a bit more, he dropped the cigarette to the cement and ground it down with the sole of his black shoes. "Alright, let's go. My stomach's 'bout ready to eat itself."

You clutched your bag to your side as you looked back at your car across the lot before you returned your attention to Bucky as he mounted the motorcycle. "Alright, c'mon. Hop on." He reached his hand out for you, and you reluctantly took it.

Bucky smiled at you and he pulled you in before you insecurely climbed the motorcycle. You had never been on a motorcycle, and now you were starting to think that choosing your first ride with someone like _him_ might not be a great idea.

"Alright," Bucky reached for your hand again before placing it around and over his tight abdomen, "I just need you to hold on tight, okay? Don't want you flyin' off on the road."

"That's not funny." You reprimanded as you did as he said, rounding your other arm around his torso. The man gripped one of your hands tight before turning and revving up the engine.

"You ready?" He asked over the sound of the strong engine.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Before pulling onto the main road, Bucky looked down and back to where your right foot was. "Up a little more." He muttered gently, nudging his boot back against your foot until it was where he wanted it. "Perfect."

And he gave no time for a warning before he revved one more time and ripped out onto the road. You couldn't stop the gasp that escaped your lips, nor could you ignore the rush in your veins, the pounding in your head at the sudden speed, and you definitely couldn't ignore the muted chuckles that rumbled from Bucky's throat, nor the way he reached down to cover one of your hands with his when he decided to slow down a little. "You okay, baby girl?"

"I would've appreciated a warning, but I'm fine." You were still catching your breath, thankful that your hair had been tucked into a messy ponytail. 

He gave your hand a pat, "Atta girl. This isn't so bad, is it?"

"No," You shook your head when his speed slowed down even more, leaving space for peace and the wind and his cologne.

"No, it's not so bad after all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) I'm a mess. I couldn't stop smiling while writing this!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's smiling so much in this ^-^

It really _wasn't_ so bad, after all.

Bucky Barnes definitely had a way with his charm, serving it with a syrupy smirk and sparkling baby blues.

The shadiness of the burger joint that he'd taken you to so late at night was nearly forgotten when he had convinced you to eat out in the restaurant's small patio. It wasn't anything special, it was dirty and old and crawling with all sorts of critters, and it was a warm night out, but this complete stranger had a way of making you forget the imperfections of the late night outing.

The lighting was dim and, much to Bucky's visible dismay, flickering in and out, but it was just enough for you to see him clearly across the small white table. It became obvious that he was feeling the heat as well when he peeled off his jacket, and you couldn't help but eye the layers of tattoos that met your eyes when he leaned his left arm on the table. The sleeve of tattoos was chaotic perfection and it was _sexy_. Your eyes discovered reaches of Russian characters, roses, large orchestrations of black ink, but there were two names that stood out, _Winifred and George,_ on his forearm. 

You opted to not ask about the names, seeing as the beautiful cursive had brought dates under them. Maybe it was something personal, but then again, weren't all tattoos supposed to be a _bit_ personal?

"How many do you have?"

Bucky quirked a brow whilst he ate away at his chili cheese fries. He looked down at his arm before turning it this way and that, inspecting his artistic avenues and choices. A small scoff left his lips, "I'm gonna be honest, I've lost count along the way." 

You took a great sip of your milkshake before speaking and eying his arm once more, "Really? I'd imagine keeping count of _permanent_ art on your _flesh_ wouldn't be that hard to keep up with."

The man was clearly quick witted and didn't miss a beat. Bucky leaned forward on both his elbows so he could see you better. The look on his face made you want to retract your previous commentary, "Well then, how 'bout you count 'em for me, princess?"

The look on his face, that _smug_ look, was a perfect contrast to the slight shock on your face. Bucky seemed to sense the hesitation in your character when you cleared your throat and decided to redirect your attention to the remainings of the burger that you'd destroyed. He chewed the insides of his cheek and held down a smirk as he watched you closely, "You likin' it out here so far?"

"I mean," You shrugged at his question, "It's...it's _nice_ , but it's different from what I'm used to."

Bucky chuckled deeply, "And what _are_ you used to?"

There was a new tone to his demeanor, as if he was intending on presenting a double entendre, and the way he held your gaze so strongly only confirmed your thoughts. But you steered clear from his slightly juvenile humor. You eyed the scenery of the small town surrounding the small burger joint, "I'm used to a loud city and loud streets? I guess I'm used to the hustle of the work week...the loneliness of a city where no one really talks to anyone."

"Mm, well," Bucky sighed, "It gets a bit lonely out here, too, baby girl. Shoulda known that before comin'."

Looking back up at him to respond, you faltered the slightest bit when you saw he wasn't looking at you anymore. His head was tilted a bit so he could see over the railing of the patio, bulky arms crossed tightly over the table. The angle of his visage granted you a glimpse at striking black ink on the side of his neck, and you were suddenly lured right back in. He must've felt you staring because he turned to look at you.

"You won't be so lonely out here, though. I saw Barton lookin' out for ya the other night. You got friends already, and out here, a pretty face like you won't find much trouble catchin' a man." He smirked slowly, "Just be careful. Some men out here can be real _bad_."

"Yourself included?" You asked cautiously, treading new territory. 

"Me?" Bucky feigned innocence and shook his head, "I'm _never_ bad."

"I've heard otherwise," You added with a small smile. "I heard you like to hang out at the sheriff's office?"

"Ha, the law 'n I don't get along too well."

You watched him curiously and tilted your head. What the hell did that even _mean_? Did he always just run around breaking every law he knew? Wh-

"You ready to go, baby girl?"

"Um, yeah," You nodded and moved to gather both of your trash while he stood and shrugged on his jacket. He watched you out of the corner of his eye and you missed the small smile on his face when you made sure to lay the trays perfectly in the center of the tiny patio table. 

As Bucky led you down the steps of the small restaurant, he looked over his shoulder at the location when the neon lights began to flicker once more. "Maybe next time I'll take you out somewhere nicer."

"Next time?"

Bucky chuckled, "You sound surprised. I did say it gets lonely out here, didn't I? Means _I_ get lonely, and a lonely Bucky Barnes is no bueno."

You couldn't help but tease along with his remark, "What _does_ a lonely Bucky Barnes do?"

The handsome man smirked as he pulled out a small ring of keys from the pockets of his blue jeans. He lowered and shook his head in amusement before tilting his head up a bit to look at you, "Oh, _baby_ , wouldn't you like to know?" The long-haired man looked you over once before nodding to his bike, "C'mon, let's get you home. Don't need anyone accusin' me of kidnapping you."

You nodded slowly, eager to get away from the tension that had built with one simple question, one simple look. There was something so beautifully enthralling about this man and his ability to build you up in heat and attraction just to let you down again. It was an affinity that lit a fire to your nerves, and it set every inch of your skin crawling with excitement.

There was an excruciating heat in your face that was set above and beyond when the man decided to take it slow down the highway, and it grew hotter when he looked over his shoulder at you. Or, _no_ , not at you, but your _lips_.

"Eyes on the road, Bucky."

The silvery blue of his eyes found yours for a second before a wide smirk decorated his perfectly sculpted profile, and he turned his attention back to the highway. "Mm, sorry. I've got my eyes set on somethin' - someone- else, princess."

The comment had you wanting to run for the mountains in embarrassment as you hid your face against his back, yet at the same time, it made you want to move his hair to the side and run your lips along the hot flesh over his neck.

God, this man was the _devil_. He had to be! You'd only _just_ met him, and he was driving you _wild_. But...maybe...maybe this was the kind of man Daisy said he was? A bad influence? A _womanizer_? Mhm.

How hard could it possibly be to face his charms and _not_  melt like a popsicle in the middle of July?

* * *

You weren't quite sure what had washed over you when Bucky pulled up to the parking lot of  _Dugan's Diner._ It felt like an unsafe fusion of relief and grief, the exciting and belly-warming rush was over. 

"Alright, baby girl, this is your stop," Bucky muttered quietly, slight fatigue evident in his voice when he realized it was nearly midnight.

You carefully lifted one leg and hopped off of the Harley-Davidson, all the while he held your forearm tightly to keep you steady. "Thanks, by the way, for goin' out with me. Wasn't quite in the mood for a burger all by my lonesome self."

The comment and tone of self-deprecation in his voice made you chuckle in sympathy, "Well, thanks for the free food."

Bucky smiled at you, the corners of his eyes creasing up a bit before he lifted an arm and ran his fingers through his wind-tousled hair. "Is that all I was tonight? A ticket to free food?"

"You could say that."

That got a melodramatic reaction from the tattooed man as his right hand came up to grab his chest. He winced, " _Ouch_. That's gonna leave a scar."

"The only thing that's gonna leave a scar is riding that motorcycle without a helmet," You pointed at your head, "I let it slide this time. But _next_ time you want me to ride with you...safety first."

Bucky seemed to find your comment amusing before he scrunched up his face and shook his head, "Personally, I prefer living on the edge.  _Besides_ , riding with me wasn't so bad, was it?"

The confidence in his voice was downright making you weak. "I guess it wasn't," You smiled and took a step backward before waving once. "Goodnight, Bucky."

"G'night, princess." Bucky watched you move across the parking lot towards your car, all the while he continued fidgeting with the handle of the Dyna. There was a small wave of excitement that he'd gotten from his outing with you tonight, and he wasn't so sure where to direct the excitement, the foreignness of it all was odd and overwhelming. Not many people ever want to interact with him, much less _look_ at him with anything other than distaste, so the fact that you had smiled at him, _smiled_ , had him on edge. _He was gettin' giddy_.

You missed the sight of the _genuine_  smile on Bucky's face before he lowered and shook his head.

And he missed the dramatic sigh that had erupted from your lips when you shut the car door. You worked hard to catch your breath and tame the violent beating in your chest, and for a moment, you almost thought you wouldn't be able to.

Because Bucky Barnes, sauntering around with that perfectly square jaw and those strong tattooed arms, those strikingly silver eyes, was doing stuff to you. You wanted so badly to look at him and not feel a thing, not feel the butterflies in your belly or to not get so _flustered_ when he'd hold your gaze for longer than a second. That man made you feel so utterly hopeless, and you wanted to get right away before you would fall victim to those sweet lips of his.

This was a one-time thing, it had to be. It was too good to be true. _He_ was too good to be true. 

Maybe tomorrow night he'd ask out another pretty face, and then another the next night, and then the next. 

You tried to convince yourself that you were only seduced by the rush he provided, _not_ those beautiful hands, _not_ the deep velvet of his voice, _not_ that crooked smirk of his. 

And _definitely_ not the fact that he appeared to be sculpted out of marble by _Adonis_ himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro Bucky's got me all kinds of weak in this chapter, I can just imagine that cute little smile on his face. I hope y'all are enjoying this story so far, by the way, and I hope y'all are prepared to be even weaker in the next few chapters because *mechanic bucky barnes


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out a lot longer than I was expecting, but what can you do right? Also! Bucky isn't a focal point in this chapter, but he does show up! He is, however, gonna be a big part of the next chapter :)

It turned out your new small town _wasn't_ so small.

Sure, it was still much smaller than many, if not most, towns in the country, and _sure_ , its _Welcome_ sign was old and the letters were beginning to peel, but the downtown area was _bustling_ with activity.

On such an early Saturday morning, many townsfolk chose to rise early and go out to town for their cups of steaming coffee and hot breakfast meals. The town was a sight to behold, and you'd felt a bit guilty for assuming the scenery would be prosaic and dull. The town, which had been burrowed between mountains and hills and pine trees, placed an emphasis on historical architecture and quirky shops and restaurants. It was the kind of town you'd read about in novels and seen in films, and you were in a trance.

After taking in the initial attraction of the small town, you found yourself seated at the window of a charmingly small coffee shop. The walls were old brick and adorned with hoops of dim string lights and black and white photographs of the town's history. It was quaint and you found yourself not caring so much that there were so many people packed in such a small place.

You assumed your good mood was because of the pair of hot cinnamon rolls you had demolished mere minutes before, or because of the fact that a special someone was pestering you over the phone in good humor.

Though you'd only known Wanda less than a month, she was proving to be a _very_ attentive and observant friend.

Your phone buzzed on the small wooden table.

_Where are you? Don't you work today? :/_

Smiling, you brought your thumbs down onto the screen at a quick pace.

_Nope, it's my day off. Tomorrow too! I'm out exploring this dumpster of a town_

You watched as the three dots faded in an out before Wanda responded.

_K listen I was born in this dumpster town so I'm slightly insulted_

_I'm just kidding, Wan. This place is nice. I'm in this little coffee shop and I shamelessly devoured half my weight in cinnamon rolls_

Wanda took a bit longer to respond, and you assumed she was trying to text and work at the same time. Poor girl, you could only imagine how busy the weekend morning rush would be back at the diner.

When you were about to slide your phone away, she responded once more.

_Are you doing anything tonight btw?_

_No, why?_

_Let me take you out for a girl's night! Just you and me, we can go to the theater and watch Wonder Woman and then maybe get a few drinks?_

It wasn't a bad idea, and you really were in need of a little fun. You tapped away on your phone's screen and agreed in a few seconds. After sending her your address and debating what showing would be convenient for the both of you, you hopped out of your chair and slipped your phone into your bag before leaving the shop with a farewell to the employee behind the counter.

Opting to keep your promise to Scott, you made it your goal to find the bookstore by the name of _Wilson's_.

Though the town was small, there were many streets and blocks that made the center seem like a maze, and it was a bit difficult to find the bookstore.

When you _did_ find the bookstore, you were flooded with relief at the fact that you hadn't completely become lost.

The bookstore was nice from the outside, and it appeared a bit newer than the rest of town. The outside was a pale yellow, and there was a striped awning over the entrance. The inside was just as nice, you decided, as you opened the front door. The air smelled of paperbacks, pencils, and a splash of warm Vanilla as you walked over the dark wood floors.

"Welcome!" A voice boomed from down an aisle before you were greeted with a bright smile on a happy face.

"Hi," You greeted with a small smile, "Um, Scott told me to come here? Said the owner's a good friend of his?"

"Me? Friends? With **_Scott_**?" The man, whose flesh resembled warmly stirred chocolate, cocked a brow and frowned in distaste, "Oh, no, we're not friends. I hate that fool."

Your smile fell as quickly as it had appeared, and your eyes searched elsewhere in humiliation. "Oh...I'm..."

The man laughed loudly and brought a hand to his chest. "I'm kiddin'! Yes, we're friends," He nodded, "I'm Sam, by the way." 

Sam reached out a hand and you took it after recollecting yourself and bringing another smile to your face. You gave him your name, "I'm new around here, just wanted to see what the town has to offer."

He snorted, "Not much, quite frankly. But if you like books," Sam brought his arms out to the sides as he showcased the small bookstore, "This is the place for you."

"It's a nice store. How long have you owned it?"

"About five years. It's a family business, passed down through generations."

"Ah," You nodded in understanding.

Sam shrugged before nodding in thought, and he walked around with you at his heels as he spoke, "Why did you even _choose_ this town? We're not on many maps."

He was right. The town was on very few maps. It was a rare finding that you'd made, however, back when you decided to venture deep into the internet in a desperate attempt to find _just_ that, a town that was off the radar. You chuckled at the tone of his question, almost as if he was in disbelief that you even chose such an obscure little place.

"I needed a change of scenery."

"Well, has the change of scenery been drastic?"

You confirmed with a scoff and a light snicker.

"As drastic as drastic can get." 

* * *

You were surprised to find that the parking lot of the small theater was nearly filled to the brim. You guessed it wasn't so unexpected, though, when Wanda told you that it was the only theater of two in town, and it _was_ a Saturday night.

Wanda pulled the car into a spot near the back exit, slipping her arm through yours as you both trudged to the entrance of the humble theater. Though it was Summer, and you'd gotten used to the damp heat of the day, tonight wasn't so bad when the cool breeze hit every now and then. 

Once the tickets were ordered and collected, your new friend argued with you on who could buy the popcorn before she reluctantly gave up when you had kept your voice stern and steady,  "You bought the tickets so let me buy the food."

"Fine," She had huffed in pseudo anger as she was completely defeated by your warning glare, to which you then switched out for a large grin.

With a container of nachos and a box of popcorn in both your hands and two large drinks in hers, the pair of you made your way into the respective showing house and had been able to scrounge up two good seats in the back. After settling down and getting comfortable, with her feet propped up on the seat in front and you the same, you both tucked into the food you'd purchased with gusto as trailers rolled.

The movie went on without a hitch, you and Wanda engrossed entirely in the superhero film all the while shoveling food into your hungry mouths. By the time the film came to an end and you were all filing back out into the theater halls, you and Wanda were more than ready to have a drink and really relax, of which you talked about whilst she led you back to her car in the parking lot.

"We can go downtown if you want? There's a real nice bar down there, some great guys hang out there, too." Wanda wiggled her well-groomed brows at you as she started up the car and the radio.

You huffed out a chuckle, "Wan, I'm really not going to the bar for that. I want a drink, just you and me, okay?"

The long-haired woman smirked at you and shrugged a shoulder before she pulled into the highway, " _Alright_ , if you say so. Just sayin', this town can be a _real_ treasure if you find the right man."

Wanda couldn't help but laugh along with you, "Wan, no."

"Oh, c'mon! Reject them, but not, ahem," She cleared her throat dramatically, "Bucky Barnes?"

"Who told you?" You whipped your head towards her in confusion and slight exasperation.

"The town talks, girl, and so does Daisy Johnson."

"That damn Daisy," You shook your head, planning on admonishing the young girl who usually worked the closing shift with you. You hoped on completely dodging the question, but Wanda kept staring at you and you couldn't help but get a bit defensive, " _What_?"

Wanda shook her head and chewed her bottom lip in thought as she pulled out onto an exit that led to the downtown area, "Nothin'. He's not terrible, I guess."

You shrugged timidly and looked away, "He's nice...he took me out last night."

" _ **WHAT**_!" Wanda screeched, momentarily losing control of the car and herself when she looked over at you, her eyes bulging right out of her pretty face. She took a deep breath, and shook her head, "I'm sorry... _what_?"

Thinking nothing of your night out with Bucky, you spoke nonchalantly, "It was just to eat...he's _not_ terrible, though, you're right."

Wanda had the goofiest grin on her face when you looked at her again, and you rolled your eyes so hard you could almost see the back of your brain. "You and Bucky Barnes? Now _that's_ somethin' I wasn't expecting! How's it feel to be bumpin' ugl-"

"Wanda, _Jesus Christ_!" You screamed, "I'm not! I don't even _know_ him!"

She laughed heartily at your defeat, "Oh, but you want to, don't ya? It's okay. Opposites attract so you goin' all starry-eyed for a bad boy ain't exactly surprisin' news. He _can_ be a charmer, from what I've seen."

"Are we gonna drop this subject or do we have to keep talking about him?"

"I mean we can drop the subject, but you keep bringin' him up like you _want_ to talk about 'im," Wanda laughed as she teased you with a manicured finger, to which you slapped away with a meek smile.

Once your destination was reached, Wanda drove through the busy maze and intersections of downtown before finding a small parking spot, of which you had to get out of the car to direct her into. Once you decided she was close enough, she shut the engine off and slammed the car door shut with a huff, "I hate parallel parkin'. Still don't know how I got my license, to be honest." She giggled as she wrapped an arm around yours.

"I don't know how you got it either. I thought _I_ was a bad driver."

You and Wanda shared laughs as you both walked arm in arm down the busy sidewalk, the beautiful scenery of the town even better now that the sun was hidden behind the pine tree covered hills. Many of the shops opted to turn on the string lights that decorated their patios and windows and railings, and one restaurant seemed to have been hosting a small live performance, what with the band being loud enough that you heard them whilst walking by.

"Here we are" Wanda nodded towards a small sign that hung above a tavern-like bar. _Split Lip_.

Out of the corner of your eye, you perked up at a familiar sight. A black Harley-Davidson sat perfectly stationed in front of the bar that Wanda had chosen. You weren't quite sure why excitement burst in your chest before you decided to calm it down and push it aside. _It's a bar, a lot of people here probably have motorcycles._

The moment you walked in, the smell of cigars and alcohol hit you. The bar was small and dimly light, but the personalities were vibrant and loud, with the drunkards clearly already out of their minds as a group of them sang along to _Whiskey River_ , many hugging each other and holding their half-empty bottles in the air.

You watched them from the corner of your eye.

"I wanna be like them one day." You deadpanned as you walked in behind Wanda, who had a rather tight grip on your hand.

"So do I, but that's just not what God intended for us, unfortunately," She joked with you as she led you up the bar, sitting next to you on an empty stool. You couldn't help the small smile on your face as you heard the terrible singing drown out Willie Nelson's voice, and Wanda chuckled with you. "Leave 'em be, stop laughin' at 'em."

"Sorry," You apologized mid-laugh before catching your breath and rotating in your stool to face the short-haired male behind the counter. Before you could order, Wanda took her hand to place it on top of yours and offered you a smirk. She ordered for you.

"Hey, gimme two shots of Whiskey?"

Looking at Wanda, you shook your head, "I'm more of a Tequila girl." Your friend smiled brightly and altered the order.

"Make that two shots of Whiskey and two shots of Tequila."

You laughed in amusement as you watched Wanda light up under the dim lights when the handsome bartender slid over the four shots. "I never actually took you for an alcoholic."

"Hey, I ain't an alcoholic. Just like to drink until I have no clue what my name is," She responded steadily as she split up the shots and handed you your Tequila.

Wanda turned in her seat to face you and you did the same, lifting your first shot of Tequila against her Whiskey. "To findin' you a hot guy for the night, and to findin' me a man to drive me home."

Shaking your head in disbelief and amusement, you both clicked your shot glasses together before drowning down your first shot. The Tequila burned its way down your throat, instantly leaving you scrunching up your face in disgust as you placed the glass back onto the counter, " _God_ , that's terrible."

Wanda took her Whiskey with much more grace than yourself, smiling right after she swallowed the alcohol, "You're weak."

"Shut up, Wan," You smiled as you reached for your second shot and she did the same before you both repeated the act.

The hour passed on smoothly, the both of you bringing more attention to your conversation than the alcohol that was being served. The both of you had decided it was best to take it slow and easy, favoring sobriety and alertness in such a suspicious bar, so you both sipped on your beers the majority of the time. Wanda and you held a steady discussion about several topics before you found your concentration wandering. 

You were falling in and out of her talk, and when she excused herself to the restroom, you told yourself  _someone was watching_. You had offered to go with her and keep her company, but she said, rather comedically, _I can take care of myself. I'm a big girl._ That left you all alone, completely exposed.

Trying to distract yourself from the uneasiness in your bones to the immediate feeling that someone was behind you, you concentrated on the sleeves of your jacket as you kept to yourself.

Perhaps you were a bit _too_ concentrated...

" _ **Boo**_ ,"

You embarrassingly gasped in horror when a deep voice reached your ear, but almost instantly quieted down with relief when a familiar laugh warmed your belly and sent you into a maze of feelings that told you to _act cool_.

Bucky leaned back against the stool by your side, Wanda's stool, shoving his hands into his front pockets as he smirked, "Come here often?"

" _Jesus_ , you couldn't think of any other pickup line?"

The male shook his head, "Not impressed? Shame, I thought it was good."

"It wasn't."

"Alright, let me try again."

Amusement took over when Bucky stood up and walked a circle before returning to his spot, cleared his throat and closed his eyes before opening them again, "Hey," He drawled, "come here often?"

A laugh involuntarily erupted from your throat, "That's the _exact_ same thing you said before."

"I know, but I said it with more feelin'," Bucky grinned, and he held your gaze for a moment, "Still not impressed, huh?"

"Not at all."

"Hm," He huffed, "How 'bout I take you out tonight and try again?"

The look on his face made you feel terrible about the fact that you were about to reject his offer. Bucky Barnes was apparently well trained in the art of _puppy eyes_. "I...I can't. I'm here with my friend."

Though the grin on his face faltered, he spoke as smooth as he always did. "Maybe next time?"

"Hey!"

You looked over Bucky's shoulder to find Wanda smiling at you like an _idiot_ before she walked around Bucky to retrieve her purse from you and sliding over a few bills to the bartender, "Sorry for abandonin' you, but I actually  _just_  remembered that I have...somethin' important to do!"

You glared at Wanda, knowing entirely what her intentions were and where her mind was going.

"Bucky, right?" She asked as she looked up at the man in his handsome glory.

"Yeah..."

"Great! Mind takin' her home for me?"

Bucky looked from Wanda to you, before looking at Wanda again. A small smirk crawled onto his face, before he cleared his throat, "Sure, I'll be takin' her _straight_ home."

Wanda nodded enthusiastically before she leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek and a warning to _be good_.

With a final farewell, she turned on her heel and hauled ass out of the bar. _Backstabber_.

Bucky's blue eyes watched her retreat before he turned his full attention back to you. He reached a hand out for yours, "C'mon, baby doll, let me take you out for the night. 'cus it looks like we're both a bit lonely now, ain't we?" 

You looked at his hand before reluctantly placing yours in his and looking at him, "Looks like we are."

His grip was safe and warm as he intertwined his fingers with yours and helped you off of the stool, "Atta girl," He whispered as he leaned in and grabbed your purse from the top of the counter before handing it to you. 

"Why is it that you're always there to fix my lonely nights?"

Snorting at his inquiry, you walked out with him into the night, "Maybe because you won't leave me alone?"

Bucky snickered before he pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his back pocket. "Do you _want_ me to?"

The question threw you off a bit, especially because he said it so nonchalantly before he brought his hand up to light his cancer stick. He watched you under his lashes and saw that you would deliver nothing but silence as an answer, so he continued after taking a drag of his cigarette, "Gonna be honest with you, baby, you tellin' me you want me to might not do much of anythin'."

You chewed your lower lip when you noticed both your paces slowed down considerably, what with Bucky taking careful steps as to not walk faster or slower than you. Looking up at him, you quickly remembered how tall he was, and how imposing his striking features were, and for some reason, the moonlight and the town's string lights shining down on him didn't help the fact.

"I haven't decided yet," You started quietly, "Whether I want you to or not."

That reply brought a genuine smile to Bucky's face and a deep rumble started in his chest, one that almost made your knees buckle with how close it sounded. 

"That's a dangerous thing to tell me, sweetheart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) ngl I'm in love with the way the reader and Wanda interact, and now I'm in love with the way I picture Bucky smiling at the end


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all like this part! It was going to be a lot longer as Bucky becomes kind of an open book with the reader, but I decided to leave that for the next chapter!

He wasn't used to _this_. 

No one _liked_ talking to Bucky Barnes, no one talked to Barnes _willingly_.

So every word you spoke stuck to him like crazy glue, every smile you smiled inspired one of his own, every _second_ you spent with him felt like an experience that he didn't want to let go. There was something about you that he didn't want to let go, and he supposed it was the fact that you didn't treat him like he was dirt on the bottom of your shoe or the fact that you actually _looked_ at him when he looked at you.

You didn't avoid his gaze out of nervousness like other people did. 

He often wondered if you could tell that _he_ was nervous.

And you often wondered if he could tell that _you_ were nervous. 

Because ever since this piece of art walked into your sorry life, and although you'd only met him enough times to count on _one_ hand, you were nervous around him. You were nervous when he took you to the arcade after Wanda abandoned you with him and when he'd asked for your number to _keep track of ya, ya know, in case someone decides to steal ya away from me_ and you were nervous when he dropped you off at your door that night.

Even when Bucky _wasn't_ around, you were stupidly flustered.

You should've _known_ that giving your number to Bucky would've created some kinda havoc.

Sure, it was the kinda havoc that made you smile like an idiot before texting back after a very _specific_ amount of time so he wouldn't know you were waiting for his reply, but it was havoc nonetheless. And it was addicting.

No, _Bucky Barnes_ was addicting.

Having initiated a rather poor attempt at forgetting the ravishing male, you were cooped up in a corner of your large and worn couch, nestling a hefty serving of _Cinnamon Toast Crunch_ to your chest. The cinnamon milk, cold and refreshing, helped cool down the heat that your new male friend?...acquaintance?...had been creating since you first met him.

A late showing of _Dirty Dancing_ on the television before you was doing little to ease your racing mind.

Acknowledging that you needed to vent, you reached for your phone just as it buzzed. Cocking a brow in thought, you pulled the device to your face and released a sigh to steady your sudden heart murmurs when Bucky's name appeared in a notification.

_I wanna show you somethin'_

Placing your bowl elsewhere on the unsteady surface of your couch, you opened up your messaging app and tapped away on the screen.

_Only if it's rated PG._

The reply was almost instant.

 _You're no fun, baby._ A sad face emoji accompanied the short reply _._

_What did you really wanna show me?_

Your phone went silent for a few minutes, leaving you to think that perhaps Bucky had gotten interested in something else. You failed to realize that he was experiencing similar heart murmurs, so much so that he'd faltered. Your phone buzzed once more, and you were washed with relief, oddly enough, when his name lit up at the top of the screen. 

_Come over?_

You swallowed nervously at his two-word inquiry. _It was getting pretty late, but you didn't want to say that! How lame would that be?_ And you don't work tomorrow, so...besides, you were just two friends hanging out, no biggie. Right?

 _What's in it for me?_ You texted back after a short minute of thought. Bucky was quick to reply as well.

_You get to spend time with a really cool guy? Aka me_

_Now how could I turn down an offer like that? I'll be there._

Your phone went silent for a moment before Bucky's response came in.

_I'll be waiting for ya ;)_

You were having something akin to a breakdown the entire time that you were getting yourself into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. You were happy, but you were equally nervous and concerned about what was going to happen. You were going to his _home_ , not to a diner or a burger joint or a small bar, but to his _home_. It was private and all of it was him and you were suddenly feeling like you were going to throw up in complete giddiness. 

* * *

The home in front of you was little. The wooden panels of the walls were old and the porch was illuminated by a dim yellow-toned light. To the side of the one-story home was a large shed-like garage, separate from the home, with its doors pulled shut. You cocked your head a bit at the fact that the lights were on, from what you could see through the garage windows.

Shoveling your keys into your purse after taking a step away from your parked car and up the small steps of the porch, you brought your knuckles up to knock twice.

When there was a moment of silence that stretched on to nearly a minute, you decided to knock one more time.

Just as your knuckles came into contact with the door, it was pulled open in one swift motion. You dropped your hand to your side and couldn't help the wild murmurs that returned to your chest.

Wild because Bucky looked so  _happy_ to see you.

Wild because Bucky was donning a blue and black flannel over a black tank, and his bulky arms were too good to be true, his hands and chest too great to belong to a mere mortal man, as it all begged to break free from the confines of his clothing. That sun-kissed skin of his that donned tattoos made a show from under the sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows, and you almost couldn't contain the wanton groan from your lips at the very sight of his sharp collarbones. But you gathered your dignity and smiled when his pretty lips pulled back into a toothy grin.

His voice was born from deep velvet, "Hey, sweet girl _._ "

A small snicker left your lips, "Hi, Bucky."

Bucky nodded over his shoulder and let you in, "Come in. Mi casa es su casa."

His _casa_ was smaller on the inside, but it radiated a certain warmth that made you gravitate towards it. The dark color of the walls truly brought everything together, and the wall of film posters, of  _The Warriors_ and _Rebel Without a Cause_  and _The Godfather,_ introduced a bit of Bucky's personal character to the interior. 

Bucky took your bag gently from your side and nodded his head to his couch before placing your bag onto it, "I'll put it over here for ya. Wanna see what I have waitin' for ya?"

You nodded with a questioning glance, "What is it?"

" _It_ is a surprise. Now c'mon," He held his hand out for you, hoping you'd take it just as easily as you did back at the bar. He smiled broadly when you looked from his hand to his face, and you grabbed his hand with a tiny smile of your own.

The way this man held your hand sent branches of electricity up your arm and to your spine and to your brain and you were trying so hard not to pull him back into you. You watched the back of his torso as he led you down a small and stuffy hallway that smelt of cigarettes and cologne before he reached a screen door that clearly led outside. He popped it open and pulled you out under the moon within a second, in the middle of the yard.

"Okay, do ya trust me?" Bucky asked, releasing your hand once he had you standing in front of the closed door of the garage.

"If I said no that would offend you, wouldn't it?"

Bucky guffawed heartily, "Just a little. Now, close those pretty eyes for me."

"No funny business?"

"No funny business." When you squinted your eyes at him, he shook his head in amusement, and you thought there was a subtle red that crawled to his ears as he spoke again, "I _promise_."

Taking his word, you cleared your throat, straightened yourself out under the moonlight, and closed your eyes. You relied heavily on your other senses to get a feel of what was going on, but there really _wasn't_ much happening around you. 

You remained on high alert as you listened to what you could only assume was Bucky opening up the garage door, a low sigh leaving the man's lips before you heard him clap his hands once.

"Open 'em up, pretty girl."

And when you did, you came face to face, face to _grill_ , with a car that damn near had you screaming like a _fangirl_ , "Holy- Bucky!"

The man in name laughed with you when you walked up to the car.

"She's gorgeous, ain't she?" He whispered, walking up behind you when you placed gentle fingers onto the glossy black body of the _1969 Mustang Boss 429_. 

"She is." You nodded in awe, looking back at him with a smile. Your brain buffered momentarily when you realized how close he was, how he was already looking right at you, "How long have you been working on this?"

Bucky shrugged in slight pride as he watched you turn back to take in the car in complete reverence, and to anyone looking it, it seemed like he looked at you the way you looked at the vehicle. "A little over a year, on and off. Just finished this afternoon, actually...so I thought maybe you'd want to see it."

Because he had nobody else to show.

"You told me you liked old cars..." Bucky recalled as he pushed his hands into his front pockets, standing so close that your arms were nearly touching, "It's been sittin' in this old garage for years 'fore I decided to get started on it." 

"You've got talent, you know?" Your voice was quiet, "This is amazing, Bucky."

He couldn't stop the pounding in his chest, the stupid and obnoxious pounding that worsened when you looked at him with something that resembled compassion as you found his frosty blue eyes. His name rolled off your tongue like a _hymn_ and Bucky's knees buckled, but he smiled and acted like his heart wasn't soaring, like he didn't want to taste the honey from your voice against his lips, "So are you, sweet girl."

Bucky watched your eyes flutter from his face to the car and your lips pulled back into a shy smile before an idea popped into his head, "You wanna go out for a ride with me?"

"You mean right now?"

He chuckled at your concern, " _Right_ now."

 _Right now_ because it was dark out and it was silent and no one was awake to hear the vicious pounding of his heart, no one could see the smiles he smiled when you weren't looking, no one could see that Bucky Barnes was falling hopelessly in love with someone that was too good for him. _But what was so wrong_ _with chasing the adrenaline?_

"Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting ready to get up close and personal, my friends! Prepare :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sad, you're sad. :( Also! I made a [tumblr](https://barnres.tumblr.com/)^_^

Bucky Barnes had chased the adrenaline 'till he couldn't breathe anymore.

He was the kinda man who never went through something like  _this_. Something so beautifully overwhelming, something that made his chest tighten and something that pulled his lips back into a stupid and giddy smile.  _You_  were doing this to him.

 _You_  were the one he'd chased down, 'till he realized you had him wrapped around your pretty little pinky. Oddly enough, he found himself incapable of having a single issue with just how pliable he was in your presence. 

How could he when it made him feel so alive? So...so... _wanted_?

Because he'd gone his entire life feeling like he truly  _was_  a speck of dirt upon the pristine surface of society, a trauma-haunted speck of dirt that was destined to remain trapped in a garage, drinking away the nights that he couldn't sleep. 

After the terrors in Afghanistan, after returning to this town with a wounded soul, Bucky had been inconsolable, debilitated with insomnia and flashes of anger and panic attacks. Panic attacks and anger that caused trembling fingers and shaky breaths and hot tears. 

Those episodes often led Bucky to recollect those haunting experiences on the battlefield.

They used to call him Sergeant Barnes.

He wore the title with pride. Or, well, he had  _tried_  to. It was hard to wear anything with pride in the middle of a war, really. It was hard to be anything but entirely afraid and devastated, and though he'd tried his absolute hardest to adopt a cloak of brave vigor, it was difficult to keep it up. It was difficult when his men fell one by one, in puddles of sand and blood and broken sobs-  _tell my daughter I love her_.

There was always one man, Steve Rogers, who'd been as strong as stone. He wasn't much smaller than Bucky, but he was a bit younger, a bit cleaner around the corners, a soldier who censored his speech whilst Bucky spat fire and sins. 

Steve was a punk, but Bucky found that he got along quite well with the goody-two-shoes who did everything that was asked of him. But of course, no soldier was ever safe from the bloodshed of war, no matter how good they were with a gun.

So when Steve Rogers lost his legs, he was sent back home, to Washington D.C. 

Bucky stayed behind indefinitely.  Steve said he'd keep contact, and that it was of utmost importance that he did so.

When Bucky's hearing in his left ear gave out entirely after an IED nearly took him down, he'd gone several weeks in the field whilst he developed a nasty case of paranoia. He was always afraid that he wouldn't hear the enemy approaching to kill him.

By his seventh year in duty, he wasn't so sure how much more he could take. He'd met some swell people and made some memories that would last him a lifetime, but they weren't all such great memories. There were memories that would haunt him, and he prayed every night for them to be taken away. They never were.

When Bucky learned that his old man had passed away, his heart, already a pile of red dust, had sunken into itself and he was sent on his way with an honorable discharge. 

George Barnes had been buried next to a Winifred Barnes on a rainy Sunday morning.

That night, Bucky had cried when their names were being inked into his flesh.

The patch of flesh where their names had been painted stung every day, a constant reminder to Bucky that his nervous system still worked, at least. He was still human, and he could still  _feel_ and it was addicting to feel. Before Bucky knew it, going under the ink needle had become an outlet of sorts, an outlet where he was allowed to feel just enough physical pain to drown out the emotional turmoil that haunted him, to drown out the occasional ringing in his left ear.

So when you'd asked how many tattoos he had, he really  _didn't_  know anymore. He really  _had_  lost count after years of going in and out of a local tattoo shop.

Before each tattoo, a call was always made to Steve.

But tonight, the call was a bit different. The advice he would be asking for would be different.

Because for the first time in years, his mind wasn't swarming with the remnants of a war-ridden body, it wasn't drowning in the blood of his comrades. 

No. Tonight, Bucky wasn't feeling what he  _usually_  felt. This wasn't debilitating melancholy or the need to numb the pain with some Whiskey. This was something else entirely.  _You_  were something else entirely, a different deity completely, and it made Bucky's heart beat violently against his chest. 

"Buck," Steve grumbled into the phone, "You  _do_  know what time it is, right?"

"Sorry, Steve, I, uh, I need to talk to you."

"...You okay, pal?" Bucky could hear the change in Steve's tone as it'd gone from exhaustion to concern, "What's wrong?"

"I just...have a lot goin' on in my head."

Bucky listened as Steve shifted around on the other side of the phone, and then he could hear a female voice in the background. Peggy, he surmised, must've been woken up by the late night call as well. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake your lady up."

"No, 's fine, Bucky," Steve offered before releasing a sigh, "What's going on, man? Talk to me."

"I, uh," Bucky found himself having a difficult time collecting his thoughts, organizing them, because every once in awhile you were there to interrupt his organization process all over again, "I finished up my pa's 'stang this mornin'."

"Really? I'm proud of you, Buck!"

"Yeah," His reply was quick and short as his mouth held onto his thoughts for him, keeping them down. He was sure Steve's reluctant silence meant something as well, like he knew something wasn't quite right on Bucky's side of the line. Steve knew Bucky like the back of his hand.

"What's happened? Something bad? Are you okay?"

"Honestly?" A small smile covered Bucky's face, "I'm doing fine, Steve. 's just, somethin' too good to be true's happened, I think."

Bucky sat down on the steps of his patio, the steps creaking beneath his bulky weight.

After his night with you, after you'd laughed with him for what felt like hours, after you'd sat with him on the hood of his car beneath the stars, Bucky was going wild for you. He wanted to hear your voice and he wanted to see you again, but that would be a bit obsessive, wouldn't it? _Of_ course _it would be, don't be a creep 'bout it, Barnes._

Steve's silence on the other end of the line encouraged Bucky to continue, "It's...I met a girl, a few weeks ago. She's real nice, Steve. I invited her 'n she came over tonight, I took her out for a ride 'n I felt so...like I was watchin' a dream unfold before my eyes."

Steve snorted at his friend's dream-like tone. "How so?"

"I dunno, Steve. She has a way of makin' me feel like I'm...like I'm  _not_  so terrible, y'know? She looks at me 'n I can't look away, Steve. I try, every time, but her pretty voice keeps bringin' me right back. She's been drivin' me crazy...'n,  _God_ , she's so  _sweet_ , Steve."

"Careful there, Buck. You're going soft, don't you think?" Steve chuckled, "You tell her yet?"

"Tell her what?"

"That you're sweet on her. Try telling her what you just told me, Buck."

Bucky shook his head, "That ain't happenin'...I've got so many issues, some that even _I_ can't contain, 'n I'd hate to drop them on her like a ton of bricks. I'm sure bein' with me is like bein' with some kinda tickin' time bomb. I know I'm a tickin' time bomb, sometimes." 

"Buck," Steve started gently, "Remember what you told me when I first told you about Peggy?"

"That she's too good for your punk ass? Yeah, I remember...aren't you guys married, now?"

His friend chuckled on the other line, "We are, Buck. But do you remember what you told me? What you  _really_  told me?"

Silence enveloped the conversation soon after the inquiry was delivered in a hushed tone. What did Bucky know? Bucky didn't know anything. And if he did, why would his input ever be valued? 

He was a recovering alcoholic, an ex-vet discouraged by his very shadow, a mechanic haunted by his dead father's tools. What else was he supposed to know? How could he accept that someone could ever give someone as pathetic as  _him_  a chance?

"I told ya that no one in the world's meant to be alone, I think. Ain't that what I said?"

"More or less," Steve offered, "So why don't you take your own advice, Bucky? You've been alone since you returned to that little town of yours. When you call you tell me about your day at the shop and how this customer did this and that customer did that. But what about now? Right now? This is the first time you sound... _content_."

"I guess," Bucky wasn't going to deny the giddy pounding in his chest each time he remembered how close he was to kissing you goodnight. In the end, he'd completely punked out and simply ruffled your hair, much to your annoyance, before sending you off into the night. That was one more bullet to add to his list of things to regret.

The critters in the night chirped under the dark sky and bright stars as Bucky continued to talk with Steve over the phone, the ex-soldier seated on the steps of his patio under the dim lighting. He wasn't sure how long he'd been on the phone with Steve, nor was he sharply aware of how often he kept bringing you up, but when Steve's conversation had slowed down, he knew it was just about time to bid his friend goodnight.

"Hey, Buck, lemme tell you something," Steve started quietly, "I know...what you think about yourself. But I also know that you're not who you  _think_  you are. The things you've seen and done don't define you. Didn't you tell me that once?"

"So call her, okay? Call her and tell her everything you just told me. Please?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm now treating this like a romance novel and I'm invested. I want to know what happens."

At that, Bucky chuckled deeply, but there was an air of self-abasement to it. "I'll try."

"Do or do not. There is no try, Buck."

Bucky groaned inwardly at Steve's terrible reference before he huffed, " _Okay_ , Steve, that's enough outta you. 'night. Tell Peggy I said hi."

"Will do. Goodnight, Buck."

That night, Bucky went to bed with a racing mind and an equally quick-beating heart. It was nearly four in the morning and he'd been struggling to succumb to the tantalizing chant of slumber, instead remaining wide-awake on a squeaky mattress and beneath an old comforter that smelled faintly of cigarettes. Across the bed, above the side table, his phone taunted him. He'd failed to call you like Steve had suggested.

If he called you or texted you or told you what he needed to say, well...every possible consequence that he painted behind his eyelids ended with you laughing in his face.  _He wouldn't blame you, really._

The strong surge of thrill budding in the pit of his belly was more than enough to keep him awake a few more moments. Within those few moments, however, he'd realized with a torturous pain in his chest, that he was awake because you  _could_  laugh in his face. He could tell you everything he wanted to tell you and you'd laugh in his face, you'd call him pathetic, a _low-life_.

The silver twinkle in Bucky's blue eyes dimmed in the darkness.

Who was he kidding? How could  _you_  ever want someone like  _him_?

Bucky reached over without a second thought.

He scrolled through his messages before he found your name. His message was short and simple, but he sent it with a frown on his face and a dull ache in his chest.

“Goodnight, my sweet girl.”

And in a matter of a second, he deleted your number. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest, I had to scrap the first version of this chapter! It was too fluffy for my liking, and I kinda wanted to set the story up for an angsty tone, so here it is!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me, but also, enjoy!!! *maniacal laughter in the background*

The disappearance of Bucky Barnes took more of a toll on you than you'd expected.

You would've liked to say that it really didn't matter all that much because it really shouldn't have. You knew nothing more than his name and his address and the exact depth of his voice, the exact color of his eyes and brightness of his boyish grins. 

It's been nearly two weeks without a word from the man that you'd quickly formed a bond with. 

You fancied your pride over desperation, however, so you responded to his radio silence with that of your own. You'd done so with a frown on your face and a yearning in your chest that  _begged_  you to search for him. Especially so after his most recent text, one that he'd sent you the night he took you out for a ride; it had been an oddly comforting text message. But then he never responded to your morning text. And then your afternoon text. And then one more after that.

And then you'd surmised that maybe he'd gotten bored with you.

So you packed up your disappointment and shoved it under your belt with every passing day. 

Work had been excruciatingly busy, keeping your feet grounded just enough to let you forget about your sudden loss of contact with Bucky. Orders were flying in and out, people flooding every single booth of every square inch of the vintage diner. You'd barely had enough time to stop and breathe, as had become normal the last few days, so when you were offered a half hour break with two of your coworkers, you took it with glee.

While Clint hurriedly fixed up a hot burger for himself, you and Wanda decided on a simple basket of curly fries to share. The three of you miraculously found yourselves an empty booth at the back of the diner, where it was quieter and less chaotic, so you took your seats with a sigh of relief.

"I swear to God, sometimes I feel like my feet will literally fall off because of this place."

You chuckled at Wanda's comment, sympathizing too much for comfort. Your body had been pushed and pulled, twisted and wrung like a rag doll. You supposed Summertime at such a cherished diner wouldn't be normal if it _wasn't_ packed every day, all day. 

Across the booth, Clint dug into his burger with a terrifyingly monstrous sound. The warm and greasy buns of the burger flattened under his strong grip, and you could practically see the thick meat and ketchup clogging up his arteries. Clint's eyes rolled back and he groaned.

" _Jesus_ , Clint," You grimaced and picked from the basket of fries with Wanda, "You haven't eaten in two years or what?"

"Hey, you girls don't sweat and run like a dog around a hot kitchen for ten hours a day, now do you?"

Wanda shrugged and pouted her pink lips, "Fair enough. Say, why haven't you told Mr. Fury that you can't be workin' so many hours?"

Clint snorted, "You really think he'd let me marry Natasha if I can't work my ass off for him?"

You laughed, "Clint, you know she hates you, right? And it's not just any kinda hate."

"You saying it's the kinda hate that leads to...I don't know, maybe, hate sex?"

"Clint!" Wanda chastised him, reaching her manicured hand over the table to smack his arm, "You're a damn animal!"

"Hey, all men are animals," Clint offered nonchalantly, raising his hands in defeat before taking another gargantuan bite from his burger. Before he even swallowed his food, he spoke with a mouthful to you, "Speaking of animals, what happened to Barnes? He leave you alone?"

You groaned inwardly, completely and entirely wanting to  _not_  talk about Bucky Barnes. But you knew better than to dodge a question from the highly observant Clint Barton, "Uh, yeah," You shrugged, "Guess our personalities didn't mix well?"

The small smile on your face was doing everything but fooling Wanda, who eyed you from the side. "Really?" She frowned, genuinely curious, "I thought y'all would get along as well as best friends. 'specially with the way he looked at you 'n all, y'know, when I abandoned you at the bar with him those few weeks ago."

"Ah, yes, how could I  _ever_  forget that!"

"What, you  _left_  her with him?" Clint hissed in disbelief at Wanda.

"Hey, he said he'd take her straight home!"

"And  _did_  he?"

You sighed in annoyance and gathered the attention of your two friends, "Look, it doesn't matter. I'm not,  _we're_  not even talking anymore, okay? Can we drop this? I'm trying to enjoy my break and move on here."

Wanda still watched you with a careful eye, her kohl-rimmed eyes a bit devilish as a smirk lifted to her face at a frightening pace. "Know what could help you move on?"

Clint rolled his eyes, almost as if he knew  _exactly_  where Wanda's teasing tone of voice was leading the conversation. "I have a friend, a  _guy_  friend, who just got a divorce. Crazy wife, the works...he's real nice, and I think you'd like him. Might be a good person to move on to?"

For a long moment, you replied with absolute silence as you pretended to be thoroughly captivated with the swirling bubbles that popped at the top of your cold glass of Coke. For some reason, the color reminded you an awful lot of Bucky's hai-"

"What's his name?" You asked quietly, giving in entirely to her witch-like gaze.

"His name's Brock. He's a  _real_  sweetheart!"

"Brock?" Clint tilted his head with a mocking giggle, "If that ain't the name of the douchiest douchebag on planet Earth, I don't know  _what_  is!"

"Listen," Wanda raised her hand to bring an end to Clint's quipping before she turned to you, "Just tell me yes or no 'n I'll set you up for  _tonight_."

" _Tonight_?" You asked with a lowered whisper. You straightened yourself out, "Wan, I don't know..."

"C'mon!" She urged you with a bright smile on her beautiful face, "Just do it! Try it out, see how you like him? If you don't like him after tonight, I'll never talk about him to you again and I'll stop talking to him about you!"

"Wait," You paused, squinting your eyes at her, "You've  _talked_  to him about me?"

Across the booth, Clint delivered a low whistle as he watched the events unfold before his youthful eyes. Wanda merely shrugged, "Well, just a few times. I only  _mentioned_  you to him..."

"Wanda?" You muttered in fear.

"Yeah?"

"You already told him I'd go on a date with him tonight, didn't you?"

Clint smiled like an idiot. 

"I...may have."

* * *

Nervous wasn't exactly the correct term to describe your current state of mind.

No, your current state of mind was an exquisite fusion of anger and instant regret. You were regretting that you'd agreed with Wanda to go on the date, even if, technically, your date already thought you'd said yes. Wanda really was a bit sneaky, wasn't she? You knew better than to be angry with her, knowing her intentions were pure, to get you out into the world, to get you away from work and stress if even for a few moments.

The diner wouldn't be closing for another two hours, but Wanda had taken it upon herself, as an  _I'm sorry_ , to take your last few hours of your shift. She'd sent you off after snatching the apron off of your body and slinging it haphazardly over her shoulder, a tired smile on her face. Guilt bit at you for even _accepting_ her offer, even if you  _were_  a bit upset with her doing something behind your back.

"Wan, are you sure about this? You've been here since eleven. I can finish my shift and you can go home and tell Brock we can postp-"

"Oh, no," Wanda shook a manicured finger, "You are  _not_  postponing," She paused momentarily before she looked around the nearly empty diner, "Unless, of course, you want to cancel it and maybe, I don't know, give that Bucky Barnes a quick call?"

"Wan, he's not answering. I've  _tried_."

"You probably texted him a few times and called it a day. Men can be real tricky sometimes, y'know? Maybe he wants to hear your  _voice_."

"I don't know Wan. I really don't think he likes me. Maybe I bored him, I don't know. Doesn't matter."

But it did, it really did, because you'd gone every waking moment wondering if he was okay, if he was just too busy or if he'd gotten into an accident on the motorcycle of his. _God, you hoped not._

"I highly doubt that's why he's not talking to you." She offered kindly, "There's a lot you didn't see from Bucky, things that he's done. He's got quite a reputation 'round here. Lotta people think he's bad news, but not me. I think everyone's got a story, but this town's awfully talented at judging a book by its cover."

"Do you know his story?" You asked quietly, leaning forward.

"I know he  _has_  a story, just like I know you have one, too. But I don't know what it is..." She remained silent for a few seconds as she reached for a rag to wipe down the counter, "We only know our own story. He just might not be willing to share his story with you."

"We were just friends,  _barely_. I don't need a full story."

"I don't know. Looked like what you both wanted to start was anything  _but_  a friendship," Wanda smiled, "But it's up to you. If you really don't think it's meant to be, as a friendship at least, then let it go."

"That's what I'm trying to do, Wan. That's why I'm going on that date tonight."

"Ah, that's right," She was more than happy to abandon the touchy subject, "I sent him your number. He should be texting you when he's off work!"

"Great, just keep handing my information out to complete strangers, Wan!" You laughed lightheartedly, grabbing your purse and leaning in to give her a gentle hug. "Alright, I'll text you later tonight?"

"Oh, you better! I want details, details, details! And if it gets graphic, I want  _graphic_  details."

You grimaced, "I swear to God, you and Clint are both insufferably disgusting."

Wanda couldn't help the loud laugh that bubbled from within her chest as she gave you a final hug and sent you off.

You gave your typical farewells to the crew before you headed straight to the front door of the diner, where a bell chimed right above you as you exited the building.

Summertime in this new town definitely was a bit better than the city, seeing as it was a bit cooler and less stuffy, what with the woods and hills surrounding the tiny town. The sky was a deep and dark blue, glittery stars twinkling as they covered all above, and you found yourself mesmerized by the peaceful silence of nature. 

When, in the distance, you heard the familiar roar of an engine of a motorcycle, you scolded yourself for thinking of  _Bucky_  while looking at the stars. How incredibly pathetic was _that_? How much of a hopeless romantic did that make you?

With each step you took towards your car, the engine grew closer and closer until you'd realized that this wasn't your mind playing tricks on you.

Bucky Barnes pulled up in the familiar motorcycle, and, for once, he was wearing a helmet.

He must've noticed you from across the small parking lot, for he'd parked right next to you.

Your sudden excitement at _seeing_ him dwindled into annoyance at how much you missed him.

It was melodramatic, really, being entirely enchanted by his looks all over again, as if you hadn't seen him for years. It was stupid that you'd still be taken aback by his strong jaw and straight nose, by the fact that you could see those piercing silver eyes in the dark. It was stupid.

You were incapable of looking away as his strong figure stood right in front of you, his strong gaze never losing track of where you were, never losing its softness.

Figuring that he probably wasn't going to speak first, you looked at the helmet that he'd rested on the seat of his bike, and then at the fingers that he brushed through his locks.

"You wore a helmet."

"I need to talk to you."

You were surprised at how soft his voice was, softer than you were expecting, what with the seriousness on his face.

"No. I get to talk first," You hissed, brows furrowing as you observed his face, "Where  _were_  you? I tried everything, I texted you and  _nothing_. You never bothered to text me back, you never bothered to call me to at least let me know that you weren't dead. I thought we were friends? Because if we so, just a heads up, friends  _don't_  do that."

Bucky listened intently to what you were saying. He watched your lips move, he watched your lips as they formed every single syllable and every single vowel in your speech before he found your eyes again.

You shut up when he did.

"Can I talk to you inside? I...I'll tell you why...I was stupid enough to let you go for so long," He moved a little closer when you gave him nothing, "Please?"

His heart sunk into his belly when you shook your head, and then it boiled in acid when you spoke, "I have a date. I can't talk to you right now."

"Then when?" There was a tone in his voice that sent a shockwave of sympathy down your spine, especially so when you peeked from the corner of your eye that one of his hands almost came up to grab yours.

"I don't know, Buck. I've been really busy."

"I need to know when, sweet girl, 'cus I can't keep  _livin_ ' like this. I've been tearin' my hair out tryna build up the courage to find you and tell you everythin' I need to tell ya. I have you right here, right n-"

"Then tell me what you want to tell me, but make it quick."

Bucky wasn't so sure that he  _could_  make it quick.

Because now he couldn't breathe and he was struggling to form sentences, he was forgetting how to  _speak_.

"Y'know how...how sometimes, I think sometimes I," He paused, a wave of shame washing over him at how intently you were watching him, waiting for him. He felt so dumb, knowing he was standing in front of you looking as lost as a pup.

_Why was it always so easy for him to flirt and call you sweet girl and doll? Why is it now that he **feels** something, it's suddenly so hard to tell you what he wanted to say?_

"I think I'm fal-"

A loud buzz cut Bucky's deep voice off, and you had just enough pity in you to frown at him while you moved to reach for your phone in your purse.

A text from Brock lit up your screen.

_I'm off. Pick you up in 30?_

Bucky watched your face contort.

"Shit," You tapped away on the phone, agreeing to the timing, "Bucky, I gotta go, okay? Just...just... _call_  me."

The words were left hanging off of Bucky's tongue as he watched you shuffle into your car. He wasn't sure what took over him the very instant that you turned your back to him; he wasn't sure if he was angered or saddened or humiliated by his ineptitude to forget his past and look at the future, one that he'd seen with you so many times on sleepless nights. He watched as you backed out with a final glance in his direction.

He wasn't so sure what he saw in your face, but it was a look that he'd taken back home with him, and it was a look he replayed over and over again as he decided that, maybe, it was best to tell you everything  _now_. 

Because now that he was lying in bed, tangled in sheets and old blankets and pillows that smelled of cigarettes and mothballs, he wished you were there. He wished he could tell you everything to your face.

It was easier, really, when he felt nothing but a slight attraction to you the first time he saw you. It was easier when he could call you doll and baby girl and not feel a _thing,_ but now that his heart raced and his blood pumped furiously at even the sound of your voice, he'd grown too bewitched to make sense of his own feelings for you.

So it was now, when you weren't looking at him with those doe eyes, that he beat himself up and forced himself to do it.

Because at least now, you couldn't laugh in his face. And if you did, at least he wouldn't see it.

Bucky reached for his phone in an instant, deciding it truly was now or never, and maybe if he said it while you weren't staring him down, he'd be calmer and collected. 

He sat up and slid to the edge of his bed, his bare back tensing once his finger hovered over your number. 

It rang four times.

He took a deep breath and spoke.

"I think I'm falling in love with you."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry for this update taking so damn long! I kinda hit a wall and wrote like _four_ versions of this before I finally decided on this one! I hope y'all enjoy it!

He was in love with you.

 _Bucky Barnes_  was in  _love_  with you.

And it hit you harder than a ton of bricks.

You wanted so desperately to tell him that your date with Brock was so absolutely terrible because Brock wasn't  _Bucky_. Because Brock wasn't sweet like Bucky, he wasn't kind and funny and he didn't  _smile_  like Bucky. 

Bucky's smile had been imprinted into the back of your mind, and it's still there, haunting you as you studied the voicemail over and over again. You studied the intricacies of his tones, the shifting in his voice and the small nervous chuckles he released every now and then.

His voice was a lullaby in and of itself, a beautiful lull full of profundity and velvet that was more than capable of keeping you up all night. Words tumbled from his lips like coarse sugar, spilling and filling into your attentive ears.

_I think I'm fallin' in love with you..._

_I know you're probably not... entirely sure about who **I**  am._

_I used to be Sergeant Barnes, but now I'm just Bucky._

_I'm sorry, sweet girl...that I'm **just**  Bucky. I don't have much to offer. Hell, I'm deaf in one ear 'n sometimes I wake up thinkin' I'm gonna get shot through the window...sometimes I drink a little here 'n there, I take it too far sometimes. Helps me forget, though. _

_But, y'know, lately, you've been helpin' me forget too._

_When I couldn't sleep all those nights, you never ignored my calls, even when it was damn near four in the mornin'._   _You let me talk._   _I think you fell asleep on me a few times, but I forgive ya._

 _But you didn't answer my call just now..or...or maybe you're havin' a good time on your date._   ** _God_** ,  _would I be a total asshole to say that I can't **stand**  the idea of you being with someone else?  You told me you were goin' on that date and it took everythin' in me to let you go. Because maybe you...don't feel about me the way I feel about you._

 _Even if you don't...if you haven't felt what I've been feelin'...I can't stop it in myself._   _I can't stop that I'm fallin' so quick, that I can't catch myself._

A moment of shuffled and static silence filled the message as you watched the ceiling close in on you. Something in your chest stung, knowing he thought you weren't so  _hopelessly_  into him.

_There's so much I want to tell you...in person_

_But there's something about those beautiful little eyes of yours that I know would have me stumblin' over my words like a relapsing drunk._

_...For some reason I picture you laughin' at me when you hear this._

_You laughin'?_

You weren't.

_I wanna hear your laugh again._

Silence.

_I'm sorry it has to be me._

_You must be upset someone like me dreams about you like a lovesick pup._

_I'm sorry, baby girl._

_I don't mean to._

The message rolled to an end after he gave a final farewell, a quiet and distanced  _G'night_.

There was a moment after the message came to an end where your mind went entirely and utterly blank before it rose into overdrive. Emotions piled.

What if he knew that you were in the same pathetic boat as he was? If he knew that you wanted to hear him laugh, too? That you wanted him to say your name in between chuckles and that you wanted him to call you his  _sweet girl_  one more time?

You were an impulsive person by nature, curious and desperate to end any and all anticipation, and you knew far too well that sleep would not come easily when you knew Bucky was probably  _waiting_  for something from you. When you pictured him waiting at the corner of his bed, a small frown pulled onto your face at the mere fact that someone as beautiful as him could be waiting for someone as mundane as yourself.

In the darkness, you wallowed over the fact that you've made little progress in  _this_  part of the friendship...relationship...this part that you  _knew_  would come sooner or later, because, from day one, something akin to a crush had come to life in your chest. This was more than a  _crush_  on Bucky Barnes, though. There's so much that has been said now, so much that's now in the open, and so little has been done about it.

With a childish groan, you tossed onto your side and stared at the blank wall before you. 

Stress took over your body with waves of exhaustion as your muscles relaxed into the mattress beneath you, your arms instinctively lifting the duvet over your body. Once you were able to breathe, sleep darkened your vision and you found yourself dreaming of a black Mustang and rich chocolate hair.

* * *

"I just wanna make sure," Wanda started slowly over the phone, "You  _know_  your shift starts in, like, ten minutes, right?"

You sighed and leaned your head back against the headrest, "Yes, Wanda. I know. I didn't plan for this to happen, you know? You might just have to tell Mr. Fury that I'll be a few minutes late."

"You expect me to tell Fury, the almighty  _God of Anger_ , that his new favorite employee is gonna be  _late_? Do you even hear yourself?" Wanda hissed at you, and you could already imagine the look of exasperation on her perfect porcelain face. She took your solemn silence as a token of defeat, "Maybe Clint can pick you up? He's off in an hour."

"Okay, cool, totally! I'll just be an  _hour_  late to work and  _not_  get fired, then."

There was silence on the other line, but you could hear Wanda talking to someone from a distance. A customer, you presumed.

While she talked, you pulled the keys from the ignition and got out of your car. Luckily, the roads were pretty empty and you had managed to get your troubling car onto the side of the road. With a heavy frown on your face, you slammed the door shut and leaned back against the side of the Accord, the morning sun beating down on you. Luckily, however, the heat of this morning wasn't particularly hostile.

"You still there?" Her voice returned.

"Can't really go anywhere," You grumbled.

"Just take a nap in your car or watch a movie on your phone!"

"Thanks, I might  _just_  do that! Really, I might!" The reply that slipped from your lips was sarcastic, but your friend took it with a gentle chuckle, "Listen, I gotta go, okay? If anything, I'll probably find a mechanic nearby and drive this piece of shit there."

Wanda didn't reply at first but you could practically hear the cogs in her head turning and tossing ideas this way and that. She finally sighed, "Alright. Just keep me updated, okay? I'll...I'll probably call Daisy 'n see if she can cover your first few hours. Get that car fixed soon, ya hear me? Mr. Fury's gonna  _kill_  me!"

"I'll be at your funeral," You smiled softly, "I love you, Wanda."

"You better be! ‘n I love ya, too."

With that, the line went silent and you stood there for a few moments, recognizing just how quiet the town was at this time of the morning. People were already at work or on their way for a quick breakfast, and you were  _stuck_ because your _stupid car_ couldn't keep itself in check.

You walked a circle around the silver vehicle, arms crossed over your chest as you scrutinized it. It wasn't even a decade old, and it was  _already_  acting up on you. You had half the mind to check under the hood, but there was absolutely no point in even trying to figure out what was wrong, you had no idea where to start and you were no mechanic.

...You need a  _mechanic_.

At the mere thought of having to call Bucky about your car, rather than the love confession he'd left you over your voicemail, you recoiled as it might be a bit too awkward.  _Hey...my car's broken down! Also, thanks for the message! We can talk about that **after**  you fix my car, maybe, or at least until I grow a pair and try out this whole confrontation thing?_

With a quiet moan at knowing  _exactly_  what had to be done, you reached into the car for your bag and grabbed your phone. 

It took quite a long time for you to gather your courage and muster up enough bravery to dial his number and press the small daunting green button.  _Or maybe if you just pretend that you didn't listen to the voicemail yet, you can give yourself enough time to read a handbook on confessing your own mutual attraction._

You brought the phone up to your ear in hesitation. Your heart skipped a beat each time the line rang.

The sound of Bucky's voice brought attention to the butterflies that came to life in your belly.

"Hey, Buck," You started, your voice as soft as the smile that began to form on your face. 

"Hey, sweetheart," The pet name slipped from his tongue, "Don't wanna sound rude, but why are you callin'? Aren't you at work?"

"Um, I'm...I  _was_  on my way, actually, but, my car started acting up." You laughed shamefully, running a nervous hand through your hair.

" _Oh_ ," You felt bad because it sounded like he was waiting for something  _else_ , like your reason for calling him wasn't the reason he was  _wanting_  you to call him, but his tone picked up nonetheless, "Alright. Well, I'm workin' but if you bring it into the shop maybe I can look at it real quick?"

"Are you sure? I won't be interrupting or anything?"

"I promise ya, it's slow this mornin'. Just bring 'er in, yeah? Think you can make it?"

The car didn't break  _down_  on you, you simply pulled over because it was acting strange and you were typically a cautious person, never one to take risks.  _Is that why you won't just blurt out **I'm falling in love with you, too**?_

You assumed the car could make it a few more miles to town. "Maybe? Can you send me the address, though? I don't know where you work."

"'course I can. I'm actually not too far from the diner."

"Oh, good," You nodded your head and turned to climb back into your car, "I'll be there soon, then."

You heard Bucky cover the phone and he yelled something at someone in the distance, _will you fools quit fuckin' around!_

When he returned to the phone, you couldn't help but chuckle, "Keeping the bunch in check, huh?"

"Always do, sweet girl. Drive safe, yeah?" Something odd burst within your chest at the sound of Bucky telling you to be safe. It was such a small feat, such a small and minuscule suggestion, but it made you feel warm inside, and you wanted to hear him say it again. You swallowed your giddiness.

You both gave your quick partings before you hung up and tossed your phone haphazardly into your bag on the passenger seat. Shoving the key into the ignition and turning it, the car came to life but you waited for the trembling to minimize and you waited for the  _check engine light_  to stop blinking before you pulled back onto the road. 

The address that Bucky sent you wasn't so far away, no more than ten minutes, and the drive went somewhat smoothly. There had been a few glitches here and there, but you breathed out in relief when you finally reached a small plaza of restaurants and liquor shops downtown. Luckily, there weren't many people, so you took your time to slow down and find the shop that Bucky mentioned.

Near the end of the strip, there was a sign with a yellow background and large black letters that caught your attention,  _Barnes Auto Services_ , over a garage and a small shop connected to it. You couldn't really stop the smile on your face anymore. So this was  _his_  shop.

You slowly pulled up to the garage and parked your car just outside before you hopped out. Loud rackets echoed from inside the garage, and you found it oddly comforting to hear laughter in between the sounds of wrenches and air pumps as you made your way up to the entrance of the shop.

The bell chimed above your head when you pulled the door open, signaling your arrival, and the air conditioner breezed over your face. 

For a while, you stood awkwardly as you held your bag to your side and bounced on the balls of your feet, looking at the framed photos of old cars on the wall. At a high corner, a small and old television was playing an old rerun of King of the Hill. It was entertaining enough to keep you distracted for a few minutes.

The distraction was broken almost immediately, unfortunately. Or,  _fortunately_.

"Enjoyin' the show?"

You were startled out of your reverie by a familiar voice, deep and soothing and it made your heart betray the calmness on your face when you turned to meet Bucky. He was smiling like an idiot at the fact that he'd just caught you watching the show with a childish glimmer in your eyes.

"Don't laugh at me."

He raised two hands, both inked with oil, in defeat as he smiled softly. The quick action let you take in his attire- he was wearing an unbuttoned charcoal shirt with a white ribbed tank beneath, rough denim pants marked with stains and boots just as dirty. There was something awfully attractive about seeing Bucky like this, and your knees nearly buckled beneath your weight when your eyes fell upon the stains on his sharp collarbones and the  _fucking_  tattoo on the side of his neck that you only now noticed because his hair's in a messy bun.  _God, just tell him, just say it **right**  now, right now when your heart's just about ready to-_

"Where's the car?"

"The what?" You stammered out, raising your eyes from the distraction to meet his silvery ones.

"Your car?"

"Oh!" You rolled your eyes at yourself and nodded over your shoulder, pretending like you weren't just caught  _staring_  at him. The corner of his provocative lips turned up into a smirk- he  _definitely_  knew you had just been staring, "It's...in the parking lot. Want me to bring it into the garage?"

"'s okay, I'll bring it in. Can I have the keys?"

The keys to the car were fished out of your purse before you handed them over to his outstretched hand.

"I'll try to be quick, okay? I know you gotta get to work."

"Yeah...kinda can't get fired," You chuckled timidly and he smiled with you.

"'course not. I'll be in the garage checkin' it out. If ya need me, I'm right through that door," He motioned to a door at the back that was left ajar, from what you could hear and barely see, it led to the garage where the rest of his mechanics were hard at work, some hardly working.

Bucky dismissed himself from your presence and he slithered through the parking lot and to your car with a heavy heart. He had almost believed that you called to tell him  _I feel the same, I think I'm falling in love with you, I'm going crazy._ When he realized that your reason for calling him was anything but, he'd forced on a smile for his own sake when, really, he was  _this_  close to losing it the entire time in the lobby.

He reasoned with himself and came to the assumption that maybe the voicemail just really hadn't gone through, or maybe he'd forgotten to press the pound key.

So, he worked on your car with a small light of hope prevailing in his chest that maybe you still  _could_  feel the same way. It was quite a large dream, but he kept it either way. He worked a little faster for you, and, within the hour, he was returning your car to its rightful spot in front of the shop. 

"Done 'n done, doll," He spoke up as he walked into the lobby, rubbing his hands in between a dirty rag as you stood from your seat against the wall, "Had a failing sensor."

"It's done  _already_?" You piped up, brows rising in slight surprise at how fast he'd just worked on your car.

" _Already_ ," The tender tone of Bucky's voice made your chest tighten, "I may or may not have topped up your coolant, too. Was a bit low."

"Bucky, you didn't have to. I know you're bus-"

"I ain't busy, sweetheart. It's slow at this time o' day, anyway."

You certainly had half the mind to reach over and kiss him when he shrugged and gave you a toothy grin.

"Thank you so much, Bucky. It was fine yesterday."

At your mentioning of last night, Bucky went quiet for a few seconds, shoveling his dirty hands into the pockets of his pants. He looked at you, nibbling on the insides of his cheeks. He didn't want to ask, but he  _had_  to, "How...How was your date?" Because it really had bothered him  _all_  night.

"Oh," You laughed breathily, rubbing your forehead, "Um, it wasn't...he's kind of an asshole. Big time lawyer in the city, crazy divorce with his wife, snobby, the works."

"Ah," Bucky chuckled, hoping you didn't catch the relief that washed over him, "Not your scene?"

"Not my scene."

Something remained unspoken as Bucky nodded.

There was so much he wanted to say, to ask and to  _beg_  for. 

_Just do it. Do it._

"Hey, uh," He finally spoke up, his voice steady and confident, "D'ya wanna go out with me tomorrow night?"

Your eyes widened a fraction of an inch. It was a small increase in width, but Bucky  _was_  a soldier, an expert at reading body language and yours was starting to tell a story that he'd grown entirely comfortable with, one that he was starting to learn like the back of his hand, one that he wanted to read every night of his life.

"There's a carnival at the end o' Summer. Ain't much...it's kinda small, but it's," He paused and could no longer hold back his own smile when a one started to lift your lips, "It's nice. You might like it. Only if you wanna. They have cotton candy...I know how much you like cotton candy."

You giggled when he tried to tempt you with food.

"Got me with the food, Barnes...I'll go. Pick me up?"

Bucky's grin was unbelievably blinding and you were unbelievably close to saying it.

"I'll pick you up, sweetheart."

"Okay, but," You lift a finger and take one step back towards the exit, "No funny business."

That sounded awfully familiar.

He brought his lower lip between white teeth as he shook his head with a small and deep chuckle, "We'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're close to the end c:


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! There's only one more part to wrap this story up!

When Wanda Maximoff came knocking on your front door, the sun had just about reached its highest point in the baby blue sky. The brunette had rushed herself right out of bed just to come at noon, just like she promised she would, because there was  _something_  you weren't telling her and what Wanda wanted to know, Wanda would  _eventually_  know.

And this was a fact that you knew all too well; it was an obvious trait in your good friend that was clear to absolutely everyone that was close to her. She was a gossip monger with no boundaries, but you'd grown to accept and love that about her.

So, at precisely noon, when the knocking at your door burst through your invasive thoughts, you lowered the volume on your television and rushed over to the front door, knowing that your good friend would simply knock incessantly until her knuckles bled. When you opened the door, Wanda grinned in relief and lifted a rectangular pink box.

"I brought donuts," She chirped as she stepped over the threshold of your front door and onto the hardwood floors of your quaint home. She kicked her shoes off and shoved them next to yours before she rushed into the living room and placed the box on the center table. Wanda made herself right at home.

"Lemme go get some napkins," You spoke with a chuckle, the smell of the fresh donuts filling your nostrils and the area that Wanda resided in. She smiled at you and nodded when you disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments to grab a few napkins. You've seen Wanda eat mountains upon mountains of glazed donuts before, and where the breakfast foods were involved, she was a  _pig_.

When you returned to the living room, you plopped yourself down betwixt your friend and the arm of the small couch. You get a few seconds to raise the volume of the comedy show that was playing before Wanda spoke.

"Oh!" She lifted her finger as she looked over at you, "I thought maybe you'd need another kick of sugar, so I stopped by the gas station and picked up this," She reached down to her purse and pulled out two Mr. Goodbars _._  " _And_ ," She elongated the word, "You're not gonna guess who I ran into."

You cocked a brow at her as you reached for the chocolate bar, undressing it and bringing it to your mouth, "Um, I dunno. You know I'm bad at these guessing games."

She chuckled, "Clint  _and_  Natasha."

Your brows rose up into your hairline, "Wait...like, they were there at the same time  _coincidentally_ , or they were there  _together_."

" _Together_ ," Wanda smiled, "Like one car for two people  _together_."

"Why?"

"I dunno," She shrugged as she opened up the box of donuts, "But...she looked kinda happy. She was  _smilin_ ' at him, actually."

At this point, you wanted nothing more than to call Clint and ask him to go through every detail of why the  _fuck_  Natasha Romanoff had smiled at him and why the  _fuck_  he never told you that he definitely had something going on with the redhead. You were ecstatic, to say the least, that the aloof woman had finally given your friend a chance.

"I'm happy for him...he always had a crush on her, since high school. At least that's what my brother told me," Wanda smiled after she took a large bite from a chocolate donut, "Clint used to be a sorta mentor of his. When Pietro moved to New York to be a _'chef',_ Clint kinda took over Pietro's role. Overbearin' brother sorta thing."

You smiled at the small telling of her past, having only heard so little of her twin brother. "Does he ever visit?"

"Pietro?" Wanda nodded and proceeded to speak through a sloppy mouthful of the doughy food, "Yeah, he usually comes in for the summer carnival, but he can't make it tonight. I was  _actually_  gonna ask if you maybe wanted to come with us? Clint, Natasha 'n I are goin'." She looked at you, crumbs decorating the corners of her lips.

"Um," You cleared your throat and took a rather large bite of your donut to muffle what you were about to say, "I'm already going."

"Excuse me?" She leaned her ear closer to you.

"I'm...already going."

This time, Wanda heard you loud and clear and the statement hit her right in the face, leaving her dazed before a large grin took over her lips. She knew it! So  _this_  was what you hadn't been telling her. Wanda released a joyous and hearty laugh as she felt smug for knowing  _something_  was up, "You're goin' to the festival with Bucky,  _aren't_  you?"

You couldn't help the small smile that forced its way through your mouthful of crumbs and chocolate glaze when Wanda all but grinned at you like an idiot, an idiot who knew everything. "Don't act so surprised."

"I'm not, but...I'm happy for you. For the both of you, actually."

"Thanks, Wan," You smiled before nibbling on your lower lip, "And you know how... you told me everyone has a story?" You slowed your train of thought momentarily, building the courage to tell your best friend something of this magnitude, "He, um, left me a voicemail, told me  _his_  story."

Now  _that_  was a surprise.

Wanda blinked and shook her head. "'m sorry, you're tellin' me he confessed through a  _voicemail_?"

"He was nervous, Wan. I think he tried telling me the night of my date with Brock. Caught me in the parking lot but I," You sighed in guilt and threw your head back against the back of the couch, "I pushed him away. It's my fault, I should've given him a chance to explain himself."

Wanda watched you through curious eyes, her arm resting over the back of the couch before she proceeded to thread her fingers through several strands of your hair. "Well, you  _do_  have a chance. The carnival's tonight, so maybe...talk to him about it? If you haven't talked to him about it yet, chances are he's only takin' you out as a friend tonight because he thinks you're not interested and I  _know_  you wanna be with him as much as he wants to be with you."

You knew she was right. You knew you'd done wrong by completely turning a cheek when he had poured his heart out to you over the phone while you were being wined and dined by some _snob_ in a tie. You should've answered the call instead of ignoring it.

With a sigh of defeat that slipped past your lips, you inched towards the edge of your couch and rested your elbows on your knees before planting your face between your hands. 

Wanda sat up with you and rubbed your back, "What's holdin' you back?"

"Nothing," You chuckled dryly, "I just...confrontations aren't my forte."

"What're you scared about?"

"That it's a lie, I think. I dunno, Wan. He's too..."

"Don't you dare say he's too good to be true. If he hears you sayin' that, his big ego will inflate even more and _then_ you'll have an even bigger problem on your hands."

A smile crawled onto your face at the mentioning of his ego, "He is pretty confident, isn't he? That's..the complete opposite of me."

"Then ease into it," Wanda suggested, "Ease your way into tellin' him you feel the same way. Start the night slow 'n work your way up. Confrontations don't have to be a big 'n scary event, especially with Bucky. I've seen you two together 'n it's like watchin' two opposites attract. You guys are naturals together."

"Okay."

"Okay...you'll do it, though, right? I'm sick 'n tired of watchin' you fools draggin' this on 'n  _on_."

You laughed before slapping her arm playfully, "I'll do it. I  _promise_."

* * *

_On my way, doll :)_

There was something quite funny about Bucky Barnes using emojis.

But it wasn't quite enough to ease you of out the jitters that plagued your shaky hands and disturbed your ability to breathe. It was  _just_  a night out with Bucky, a man that you considered yourself to know pretty well,  _especially_  after that voicemail, but maybe that's what made this extra hard.

Because while you fixed your hair to the best of your skills, you were thinking too much about the depth of his voice, the misty blue of his eyes and that one crooked tooth that would make its shy appearance when he grinned at you.  _God_ , you were in deep and you were sure being with him tonight would only bury you several feet deeper into your grave.

But, like Wanda had said, this was your  _chance_. Once you got past the confessions, you knew it would be rather easy to bounce back to the overly friendly touches and flirtatious banter that was the foundation of your friendship with Bucky.

So, when you heard the low rumbling of an engine ascending your driveway, you grabbed your bag and took a deep breath.

_Outside_

Bucky's text brought about a buzz to the phone in your hand, and you responded with a witty _Stop being impatient._

Before he could text any more messages, you were skidding to the front door and grabbing for your keys in the bowl on the entrance table. You gave yourself a quick pat down and moved your hair over your shoulder before opening the door and walking into the breezy Summer evening.

The sun was still preparing itself to set and sink behind the dark pine trees, but it was still radiating a warm hue that raced over the sky, leaving behind purple and orange cotton candy clouds. Still, the sight of the sky just wasn't enough to distract you from the handsome man that stood in your driveway, mounted over a sleek motorcycle donning a stupidly tight Henley.

Bucky grinned at you, and  _there_  it was, that crooked tooth, those crinkled eyes, that ceaseless beating in your chest when he opened those precious pink lips.

"Evenin', doll."

You smiled and inched your way closer to him before you stood right in front of him. You motioned to the helmet that sat secured under his arm, "You actually wore a helmet this time?"

"'fraid not. It ain't for me," He smirked and lowered the kickstand before he hopped off of the motorcycle. He tossed the helmet once in his hand so he could look at it before he stepped right in front of you. "It's for you."

You couldn't help but find yourself entirely incapable of ignoring how close he stood, how tall he stood, how much he smelled of cologne and a slight splash of Summer sweat. You averted your gaze from his bright eyes to the black helmet he held, "I get special treatment, then?"

Bucky didn't stop himself from saying the first thing in his mind, "Well, you're special to me, baby doll."

The blue in his eyes made way for sprinkled iotas of glaciers as he watched your lips pull back into a timid laugh, and he couldn't help the heat that crawled right up to his ears when his belly tightened, and his lips smiled without permission. 

It seemed you made his heart have a mind of its own when he was least prepared.

"Can I?" Bucky asked, lifting the helmet a bit and nodding to your head.

With a quiet chuckle and a slow nod, you gave him permission before he took one more step forward. He was so impossibly close that your mind went right into overdrive. You weren't sure  _what_  was causing  _what_  emotion because you were feeling ecstatic and weightless and nervous all at once, and before you knew it, your hands pressed right against his chest as he lowered the helmet right onto your head.

With nimble fingers, he lifted the black visor so that he could see you, and you were close enough to kiss him, but the helmet would make it severely  _awkward_. "I feel like I look silly, Bucky."

"You look beautiful," He shook his head and dismissed your previous comment by clearing his throat, "C'mon. The line for this carnival gets kinda ridiculous after the sun sets." Bucky offered you a large hand, and when you took it he guided you to mount the motorcycle right behind him.

It reminded you an awful lot of the first night he took you out when you'd wrapped your arms around his torso like you were doing now, when he held your hand for one second like he was doing now. "Did ya miss ridin' with me?"

Bucky's voice broke you out of your silent reflection as you inched just a little closer to him, pressing yourself completely to his hard back as he gave your hand a squeeze. "If I say yes, your ego will  _literally_  explode."

At this, your heart soared when the male howled with laughter before he gave you a rather quick response, "You're mean, baby doll."

"I'm kidding."

Bucky released your hand and chuckled one last time.

"I know." 

And with that, he peeled out of your driveway with you holding on to him like a lifeline and he just didn't have it in him to  _not_  want you to hold on a little bit tighter, to press yourself a little bit closer. You only did so when he chose to speed down a particularly curvy corner on the highway  _just_  to get a reaction from you, and though your instinct reaction was to scold him for being childish, he had laughed it off because you were with him. Simply, truly, Bucky could laugh for  _hours_  if you told the lamest joke and he felt no shame for it.

Luckily and fortunately, you both made it to the carnival in one piece. As Bucky pulled into the crowded parking lot and found a lucky spot, your ears perked at the sound of the music and the loud screams of joy and the bustling of people having  _fun_  behind the railings that separated the lot from the games and cheerful people. The air smelled of hot dogs and popcorn, making you hop off the motorcycle that much faster.

You stayed close to Bucky as he kicked the bike's stand out and hopped off right after you before he turned to you, "Not plannin' on ridin' that ferris wheel while wearin' that helmet, are you, silly girl?"

When he stepped closer, he found himself to be in love with the fact that you'd readily walked right up to him, eager for him to get the helmet off because you wanted to _explore_ this carnival for your first time. "We're riding the ferris wheel?" You asked once he freed you of the helmet, and you tried your hardest to  _not_  burn a deep red when he ran a few fingers through to ease your now messy helmet hair

"Only if you want? If you're afraid o' heights, I won't force ya."

"I'm not afraid of heights. Unless  _you_  are?"

At this, Bucky snorted and wrinkled his nose, "I have lots o' fears, sweet girl, but a fear o' heights is  _not_  one of 'em."

Bucky took the helmet from your hands and turned his back to the inquisitive look on your face, moving to the back of the motorcycle to open the tiny trunk before he tossed the helmet in. When he turned around, he found your attention already steering to the rather large and bright ferris wheel that rolled lazily over the rest of the carnival. 

"We'll save that one for last, baby. I wanna treat you to some fried Oreos first."

"Fried  _Oreos_? I thought that was a myth?"

He laughed because he used to think that finding  _love_  was a myth until he found you, be it unrequited or not.

He laughed to stop himself from saying what was left unsaid, because he didn't have it in him to tell you that he'd stayed up all night obsessing over the fact that he was so far past the point of being  _infatuated_  with you- he was free falling, falling into the deepest depths of being in love with you, the depths that brought giddy beatings to his heart at the mere sound of your name.

So, tonight was his chance.

Tonight was his night and he wasn't going to let his self-loathing distract him from letting you know that you had quickly become the reason he woke every morning with a new spark in his chest, the reason that a new bottle of Whiskey in his kitchen remained  _untouched_  because he wanted to be entirely sober when thinking about you _._ He wanted to tell you, most importantly, though, that your face and your  _voice_ were slowly replacing the horrid and bloody nightmares that kept him up all night for so many years. 

Standing in line, he couldn't help the small smile that crawled onto his face as he grabbed your hand.

"What're you thinking about, Barnes?" You inquired with a cocked brow as he tugged you just a little closer, and before you knew it, your knuckles were pressed against his lips.

Your chest tightened when he angled his head just enough to look down at you, and there was a twinkle of _something_ in his eyes.

"Later, doll. I'll tell ya later. Let's just have some fun, okay?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! We’ve followed the road and now we’re at the end. I’ve had a blast writing this series and the comments and reviews that I’ve received have been so inspirational and have kept me motivated! I appreciate that y’all have enjoyed this series so much and I hope y’all will hang around for my upcoming series!

"You like that, doll?"

If you could talk, you  _would_. But you found yourself temporarily incapable of speaking a single word as the deep-fried Oreo left your fingers covered in oils and left your throat coated in a warm mixture of butter and chocolate creme. After you downed the last bite of the fatty treat, you had to take a deep breath to compose yourself before looking at Bucky, "God, that should  _not_  exist but I'm so glad it does."

"Ya liked it, huh? I can get ya another one?"

"Nah," You shook your head at his offer, "You've gotten me  _more_  than enough food tonight, Bucky. I feel like I'm about ready to explode. You'll have to hose my guts off the cement."

At your comment, Bucky couldn't help the playful grimace that crawled onto his face.

You leaned back further into the small bench that he'd found for the both of you to take a break and relax on. It was questionably small and dirty. The wood was sticky at some parts, and you were more than sure that there were piles of gum stuck to the bottom of the bench. But the soles of your feet were starting to ache and your tummy was starting to feel uncomfortably  _full_. After recalling everything that Bucky had encouraged you to eat, you suddenly remembered watching him  _devour_  nearly every food option in the carnival.

"How are  _you_  not full?" You asked before looking up at him as he slung his arm over the back of the bench, "You  _easily_  ate half your weight in hot dogs and cotton candy tonight."

"I'm a bottomless pit, I guess," He shrugged nonchalantly with a crooked smile. He watched you for a few seconds longer before he craned his neck a bit and he looked forward at the rest of the carnival. While he watched with nostalgia as kids ran around with balloons, as rings were tossed over bottles, as the brightly lit carousel turned soothingly, you watched the lines of his neck tattoo shift with his flesh. "Think I used to eat  _much_  more when I was younger, believe it or not."

Now  _that_  was new. "Really?"

"Really," Bucky nodded with a small smile, "I was a, uh, a chubby kid growin' up."

"That...to be honest, I can't really picture that," You chuckled, giving him a short once-over. "You're kinda," You waved at his physique awkwardly.

"I know. Lots 'o...discipline, doll." He smiled and you could see the devilish twinkle coming to life in his blue eyes as he leaned in an inch closer. And you had no capacity to  _doubt_  his remark, his powerful and strong physique more than enough proof. Hell, if you looked hard enough, you would be more than able to find the exact slopes of his biceps through the fabric of his Henley.

"You up for that ferris wheel now?"

"Huh?"

Bucky moved towards the edge of the bench and slid his large hand onto your knee before he nodded over to the ferris wheel, "C'mon."

"The ferris wheel?  _Now_?"

The male laughed enthusiastically as he stood and grabbed your hand tightly, hauling you up from the dingy bench, " _C'mon,_ doll. Ya promised me!"

As he led you towards the wheel, he cleared a path through the throngs of cheerful people and rowdy teenagers, keeping you close. You couldn't help the smile on your face when he tugged you right into his side, keeping your fingers intertwined securely with his, " _Only_  because I wanna get this one over and done with."

Bucky laughed, "Aw, it won't be so bad. Promise ya."

You chuckled as soon as he nudged you right into the line. Bucky stood tall beside you, and, almost as if he could  _smell_  the group of boys that were weaving through the crowds to get in line behind you both, he slid that much closer. You could feel the heat of his presence directly against you, looming and for some reason it was  _comforting_.

It was when his left arm came up around your shoulder that you realized  _something_  was up. Turning your head to look up at him, you cocked a brow as he gave you a tight-lipped smile. You leaned to the side a bit to look over his shoulder and couldn't help but roll your eyes. He was being childish. Oddly endearing but  _childish_.

You found yourself caring very little, for he smelled so much of cologne and a gentle Summery sweat, and he was so  _warm_. So it was far too hard for you to stop yourself from relaxing right into his touch. It was far too hard for you to stop yourself from thinking that this felt awfully  _right_.

It was in the silence in his head that he felt the same. That this felt just  _right_. Holding you this close was right. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps you were feeling the same? Perhaps you were feeling the same weightlessness that was taking over his limbs just by touching you? He hoped to himself...

He promised himself...

"Alright, c'mon! Climb aboard!"

Bucky was pulled right from his persistent thoughts when the ride operator called for the next group, you and him included, to move forward, so he pulled you along with him. The bright neon bands on your wrists were checked and you were both ushered up the steps. On his way up the steps, he leaned his head back the slightest bit to find the top of the wheel.

It was a  _long_  way up and he was sure the pounding he was hearing wasn't coming from the cogs or chains from the wheel but from his yearning heart.

He had no idea that you were watching him closely, watching his throat constrict as he swallowed his panic. If he wouldn't do it...you waited too long for this. This was your chance, and you would be damned if this would have to be dragged out for another lifetime. You would have to initiate this, you would have to get over your own issues.

"C'mon, Sergeant," Bucky looked at you in slight shock, speechless at the tender smile on your face as you motioned to the cart in front of you. "It's gonna be a long ride. Don't you think?"

It was a trance that his brain walked right into.

He got on with you, sat down by your side and the confusion was consuming him. Maybe he heard you wrong, right? You'd said it so quietly that the possibility of it being his brain playing a joke on him was possible...but it sounded so  _real_. He knew vivid nightmares, he knew hallucinations, and  _that_  wasn't it.

"Say that again?"

"Said it's gonna be a long ride, don't you t-"

"No, before that."

The advice that Wanda had given you flew right out the window when Bucky searched your face desperately. You couldn't ease into this. There was no way out when the baby blue in his eyes made way for a glimmery silver, and his eyes waited for your lips to move as he watched you. The chaos beneath quieted once the wheel began its rotation. There was silence as he stared right at you, right into you.

"Said it's gonna be a long ride,  _Sergeant_."

This was real life. This wasn't Bucky's mind playing a cruel joke on him- this was really you calling him a name that he's gone so long without hearing, and for some reason, it sounded so  _sweet_  coming from you. And the quirking of your lips eased the trembling fingers that reached for your face.

It was when the pads of his fingers fell upon the skin of your cheeks that his own flesh tingled. And when you leaned right into the palm of his hand, he hoped the ride would  _never_  end.

"Do you want it to be?" He asked quietly, leaning a little bit closer, and you watched with elation as his lips left a holy kiss against your forehead, "'cause if you say yes...'m 'fraid this is it, sweetheart. You say you're fallin' in love with me too 'n it'll break me in half to tell ya that I don't ever wanna leave your side. That I  _can't_  leave your side."

"Then  _don't_ , Bucky," His lips pecked down the bridge of your nose. When his lips stood just before yours, he leveled his eyes out with yours. Your palm found itself resting on his chest just as his eyes slipped to your lips, "What's your biggest fear?"

"My biggest fear?"

"Yeah."

"It used to be...it used to be not bein' able to hear an enemy approachin'," He motioned to his left ear, "Then it was the feelin' that I failed my ma 'n pa. Then it was that I really wouldn't ever find someone that makes me feel the way you've made me feel," You watched with a smile as his lips lifted timidly, "Now that I found ya, I'm 'fraid I'll lose ya too. The way I've been losin' my whole life. Right  _now_ , it's that you're not gonna let me kiss ya."

He laughed when you did.

And, with a smile on his lips, his fingers pulled you in close under the night sky. Before he shut his eyes, he gave the dark sky one last glance, he gave your eyes the longest stare before he was whispering right against your lips, "Don't ever leave me, doll.  _Please_."

"I won't."

Bucky was always a bit dramatic, and now he was becoming a hopeless romantic. One who no longer dreams of wars drenched in the blood of soldiers and civilians.

He realized, right there with your lips pressed against his, that perhaps this was a path that would lead him to a highway people could only dreamof. A highway where war did not exist, one where the view was gorgeous, and Bucky was ready for the ride of his life, with you to lead the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited about my upcoming series, and I hope y'all are excited as well!


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